LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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Book. 



MORNING CLOUDS. 



This battle fares like to the morning'3 war, 
When dying clouds contend with growing light." 

Shakespeabe. 



LONDON: 

LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, LONGMANS, & ROBERTS. 

1857. 






By Trar 
Dept. ot ccata 

DEC 



Printed by Spottistvoode & Co. 
New-street-Square. 



TO THE FEW 

FOE WHOM THIS BOOK IS INTENDED, 

$i is g*bkateb, 

WITH AFFECTION AND EESFECT. 



PREFACE. 



The sorrowful need a compassionate comforter, and 
those who are dark in their own counsel an under- 
standing guide, an interpreter of confused notions. 
If any who open this book are disquieted by per- 
plexities too vague to be accurately described, and 
beyond the reach of general advice, I entreat their 
attention while I endeavour to meet them. It 
is my earnest desire to be of use to such readers. 
The suggestions offered will have no pretension to 
originality ; they must be, in great measure, echoes 
from the teaching of wiser men ; but having myself 
passed through the uncertainties of youth with a 
troubled mind, I trust that experience may give to 
my words some force and facility of application, or, 
failing in this, may at least afford the quieting plea- 
sure of sympathy. 



VI PREFACE. 

Ycu desire to be understood; for, though self- 
consciousness begins to be intense, you find the 
inner and outer life still unharmonised : you think if 
some one could know your inexplicable difficulties, 
if the strangeness of your particular grief was recog- 
nised, there might be more peace within. 

You have much to suffer before you entirely 
believe that He who made and knows all that is 
in man can alone truly enter into the sorrow and 
heal the sickness of our souls. That He may make 
me in any degree a good messenger to you, who, 
with the battle before you, have not yet chosen the 
subordinate parts of your armour, is my prayer. 
The weapons, whose efficacy I shall insist upon, 
are those which our Creator has provided for us, 
and which only our own misuse can make altogether 
unsuccessful. 

Lest any, for whom this book can have no other 
interest than that of an exercise for their powers 
of criticism, should take it up, and be offended by 
the indecorum of an ever recurring " I think," 
" I believe," " I advise," I must so far anticipate 
their censure as to acknowledge that I cannot hope 



PREFACE. Yll 

to escape it. Their approval I must forego. If, in 
consideration of my object, they grant me forgive- 
ness, it will be a boon on which I do not reckon. 

Those for whom I write will not mistake plain 
speaking for presumption, and to them I hope I need 
not apologise for using simple expressions in prefer- 
ence to the usual guarded forms of circumlocution, 
which, though less exposed to ridicule, are more liable 
to misconstruction, and about as modest as the re- 
viewer's official " we." 

Let honest hearts believe that when I say " I 
think," " I recommend," and the like, instead of " it 
would seem," " it might not be amiss," &c, &c, I 
assume nothing more than the privilege of directness 
in communicating thought, and I only claim the in- 
dulgent attention of those I long to serve. 

People of small importance will sometimes tease 
their neighbours by frequently referring to acquaint- 
ances among the great, and friends will too often 
indulge their affection in the same way, and with 
the same effect. I am afraid that the number of 
quotations in this book might justify a reader in 
classing me among the most troublesome of these in- 



Vlll PREFACE. 

discreet admirers: the best excuse I can offer is, 
that for the most part I have quoted the opinion of 
men really great, — friends of the whole civilised 
world, — counsellors so serviceable and unchanging, 
that I thought those who knew them already would 
be pleased to find them duly valued, and those to 
whom they were unknown, if once introduced to 
such companions, might be glad to make them their 
friends and counsellors also. 



MORNING CLOUDS. 



CHAPTEE I. 



Era 'n gran tempo ; e del cammino incertd* 

Misero peregrin molti anni andai, 

Con dubbio pie sender cangiando spesso, 

Tal che 'n ira e 'n dispregio ebbi me stesso, 
E tutti i miei pensier me spiacquer poi, 
Ch' io non poter trovar scorta o consiglio." 

Rime del Casa. 



Some degree of uncertainty is inevitable, when we 
first feel the power of self-direction. As long as the 
control of another gives definiteness to our proceed- 
ings, the peace of a freedom within limits leaves the 
heart open to every pleasant influence; and if at 
times the pressure of authority is burdensome, it is 
a hindrance felt to be external, and soon forgotten ; 
at least in cases where a loving wisdom imposes, and 

fi B 



7 



2 MORNING CLOUDS. 

obedience receives it. A time comes when the sup- 
porting bands are withdrawn, when the inexperienced 
must direct themselves. 

Left alone, with a sensitive, thoughtful nature, we 
feel the " burden of free will," man's glorious pre- 
rogative : to hold it worthily among the delusions of 
this life requires a long and severe discipline. I do 
not doubt that the good seed sown in childhood will 
spring up, though possibly under influences which 
seem overpoweringly adverse; and it is the doubt 
how to cherish the growth of good seed, how to 
keep the tares from choking, and the sun from 
deadly parching up, not how to find a better root 
than is planted already, which agitates us when self- 
education begins. In these days, the most honest 
mind, asking itself, ei How shall I make the best use 
of life ? " finds enough to confuse it. At every pause 
in the hurry of action, the thoughtful perceive that 
they are standing where many cross ways intersect, 
and that the signpost of each asserts that it leads to 
the same point, — to the best mode of living. Ac- 
cordingly, we see numbers of eager travellers 
diverging in almost opposite directions, nearly every 
one assured that he treads the path leading to the 
greatest good ; and, so far as this, all may be right ; 
truth being infinitely greater than human powers of 



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look to the reason God has given, and to the ex- 

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4 MORNING CLOUDS. 

the exercise of our faculties as if from these aloue 
we could receive increase of wisdom, by our mys- 
terious connection with the Divine Being we obtain 
supplies of grace for which language has no name 
and faith no limit. 

Believing that you are fully instructed in sound 
religion, and have found in the Bible an all-sufficient 
answer to the tremendous doubts of the sceptic, I 
shall only try to speak in detail of those lesser ones 
by which you may be troubled, and which, I believe, 
are more fairly met by the humble suggestions of 
prudence than with partial and strained application of 
Scripture precepts, — often a most hazardous resource 
to feeble minds, and one always open to the attacks 
of cavillers. 

In lines that need not be quoted again, Words- 
worth has expressed gratitude for " blank misgiv- 
ings "— at a time when, we may be sure, they were 
fully passed; for the soul of man is seldom more 
uncomfortable than when these overspread it. Have 
you not felt these misgivings ? Have they not sur- 
prised you with aU intensity of pain that seemed 
causeless ? It may have been when you were flushed 
with a little unhoped-for success ; or they may have 
followed a chain of petty disappointments, and 
turned conscious and definite chagrin into the vague- 



DISSATISFACTION. O 

ness of utter dejection. When your heart has been 
stung with the exceeding beauty of the external 
world, these misgivings have returned, and you have 
asked, with sighs, {( Why am not I, why is not my 
daily life, in some way beautiful, with a perfection 
answerable to nature's ? " And, again, some chance 
word has brought them back, and you have hastened 
to engross yourself with tangible things rather than 
endure the unavailing toil of self-questioning thought ; 
or, as so often happens, peace of mind seen in another 
has reflected with sad distinctness your own broken 
and entangled feelings. I believe these sorrows 
belong to an order of beings whose capacities cannot 
long be occupied by merely transitory interests. 
W r ere you able to anticipate future wisdom, you 
might willingly resign yourself to these disturbances 
of mind as a pledge of far greater happiness, even in 
this world, than those incapable of them ever attain. 
But it is neither desirable nor possible that any 
should thus avoid a portion of life's teaching. Born 
for an immortality of inconceivable bliss, it is no 
marvel that the trifles of the present (and trifles we 
must esteem them till we better understand their 
purpose) seem utterly inadequate to still the spirit's 
thirst. It longs for something more than it finds, 
something greater than all that is offered to it ; and 

JJ 3 



6 MORNING CLOUDS. 

as day by day creeps forward with a heavy freight of 
little duties,, little joys, little pursuits, the poor 
novice often groans with a despair seldom known 
when custom has tamed and time " rocked to pa- 
tience." But when there is nothing in the outer life 
to which blind hope can attach its immeasurable web, 
the woman who cannot appease her heart with frivo- 
lous objects will too often admit delusions of such 
intense interest that for a time it craves nothing 
more. She will in many cases suppose herself to be 
loved supremely by the only person who can at all 
represent her ideal ; and with this delicious supposi- 
tion she will occupy her mind till the wholesome in- 
stincts of common sense as to what is are confused 
by wild dreams of what may he. 

Whether, in the early part of woman's life, this 
folly affects all without exception, I cannot presume 
to decide ; there is much to make one believe it very 
common — a malady seldom entirely escaped. And 
since a delusion, which at any stage of existence is 
almost invariable, must have its use, this seeming- 
waste of feeling cannot be altogether in vain. The 
powers of an infant are stimulated by the sight of 
unattainable objects; those of the adult are, no doubt, 
exercised by the imagination of things equally inac- 
cessible ; and in devotion to one, who for the time 



FIRST LOVE. ( 

being represents human perfection, self may be a 
little lost sight of, and the only Disposer of hearts 
more constantly remembered. Yet, before any of 
you who read these pages enter upon this educational 
chase of shadows ; or even if now you feel the deli- 
rium of unwarranted hope, let a few words of warn- 
ing and comfort be favourably received. 

Do not, if you love your own peace, seek to exchange 
it for the excitements of passion. If at your present 
age — perhaps something less than twenty years, you 
expect your feelings to be shared by the one for 
whose love you now think all other blessings would 
be easily given up, you expect what is not often pro- 
bable; if you expect that such love when mutual 
should be approved by those on whose sanction its 
prosperity must depend, you expect what common 
experience proves to be very unlikely, and the un- 
usual cases that are now and then heard of, fortify- 
ing the hope of each trembling heart that its own 
may be one of them, are the result of a combination 
of circumstances so rare, as to justify one in saying 
it is only possible for first love to be both happy in 
its object, and successful in its fate. 

If to any one of you this uncommon happiness 
is assigned, the remarks I hazard (more in affec- 
tionate protest, than in the belief that they will do 

B 4 



8 MORNING CLOUDS. 

good) are not applicable ; neither will you who are 
so singularly blessed suffer from the aimlessness 
of life which I am attributing to my imaginary 
reader. 

A destiny that makes this impossible is indeed 
blessed ; and yet this suffering is truly a token of 
peculiar mercy ; for it indicates a nature of great 
capacities, a nature which must be continually rest- 
less till it has found its rest in God. 

With regard to the enchanting dream that for a 
while fills you with strong emotions, I must ask you 
to believe, that though now you can hardly con- 
ceive any other form of mercy than the fulfilment of 
your passionate hopes, the time may come when you 
will pour out heartfelt thanksgivings for the Divine 
Love which destroys the hope of man. 

Many weary days must creep by first, and often 
must your heart sicken, believing its hope deferred, 
but indestructible ; and while you cherish it, the 
present will be either a state of secret rapture, soon 
changing to an insatiable hunger of the heart ; or a 
heavy load of blank hours that have no gladness, 
but flashes of sweet remembrance and sweeter anti- 
cipation. The process by which the deluded heart 
assures itself that its love is necessarily returned, is 
in all much alike. 



GROUNDLESS CONFIDENCE. \) 

First, the preference; the pleasant fancy; — then 
its nameless superstitions ; the belief that you are 
preferred ; the grave assertion, to yourself alone, 
that you were made for each other; mysterious 
coincidences ; realised presentiments ; clear proofs 
of similarity of taste, arranged with all the inge- 
nious arts of self-deception ; — till at last, by a 
strange mode of reasoning, even the silence of 
another may be so interpreted as to strengthen a 
false persuasion ; and without exactly putting it into 
words like Moliere's Belise, — 



" Us m'ont su reverer si fort, que jusqu'a ce jour 
lis ne m'ont jamais dit un mot de leur amour ; 
Mais, pour m'onrir leur coeur et vouer leur service, 

Les muets truchements ont tous fait leur office," 



you are indulging in a somewhat similar train of 
thought. 

Meanwhile the real life, external to this pageantry 
of hope, is tasteless and burdensome. 

Too well most of those who have reached the 
middle age of womanhood know each crisis in this 
long fever; but if every one had given you her con- 
fession of its well-remembered course, its lingering 
weakness, and sorrowful close ; you would still exult 
in what you persuade yourself is a more trustworthy 



10 MORNING CLOUDS. 

hope, till it perished, till the presence you had 
longed for brought its death-warrant. 

Do not fall under the terrible blow ; there is yet 
something to live for ; there is yet love on earth, 
even pure and strong love, and always a refuge for 
the broken-hearted — everywhere the everlasting love 
of a reconciled God. He hears you moan ; you are 
neither unpitied nor forsaken. The words of a 
fellow-creature are at such times utterly unavailing, 
but to the Comforter you can show all your grief. 

It is after the first days of bitterness are over- 
passed — when, disenchanted and feeble, you find 
traces of the silent wreck on all sides of your daily 
life : it is then that I would try and gain a hearing 
for truth among the harsh discords of disappointment; 
desiring to press upon your incredulous mind this 
unpoetical fact — that the love which can never be 
yours was most unlikely to have made you per- 
manently happy. Granting that your affection was 
won by real excellence, it by no means follows that 
it was of the kind which you would continue to love 
when brought into close connexion with it. 

The experience of every day is convincing many 
unfortunates of mistakes in this direction, that a 
whole lifetime cannot undo. Perhaps you do not yet 
know that love attributes so much of an ideal nature 



THE CHOICE OF FANCY UNWISE. 11 

to its object, as to leave the true nature often 
unguessed. Very often we imagine in another per- 
son all those good qualities which lie undeveloped in 
ourselves. In how many instances of woman's love, 
it may be said with some truth, " the form she so 
much worshipped was her own." Not consciously, 
for it happens when self is in complete disgrace 
with the imagination; and assuredly it is the last 
form we wish to find a duplicate of when it is better 
known. 

Time, ripening those latent virtues which were 
given to the hero of fancy, will bring to many a far 
more exalting object of love than the idol of their 
youth, — one whose very difference of character will 
be the closest bond of affection ; and (though you 
will now be offended if I imply any likeness in your 
fate to Titania's) you may some day look back to 
this miserable present with wonder, scarcely able to 
recognise your grief, and owning that it was indeed 
" the fierce vexation of a dream." I know the weak- 
ness of words on this subject; but whether mine 
have brought smiles to those readers who disclaim 
all cognizance of this youthful distemper, or tears 
to those who even now listen and watch for an 
arrival they hardly dare expect, I entreat them to 
distrust every vehement hope that calculates on 



12 MORNING CLOUDS. 

human affection ; and in all their future perplexities 
continually and without reserve to commend their 
destinies to Him " who disposes of all things sweetly 
and according to the nature and capacity of things."* 
Beyond the beautiful mirage of Love, the shadow 
of Death is frequently imagined, and welcomed as 
a hope. The shock of a great sorrow seldom 
fails to tell upon health, and it is often followed 
by symptoms that threaten serious disease; while 
the patient, believing that her languishing con- 
dition is only a preliminary of fatal decline, feels 
soothed by the prospect, and would reluctantly re- 
sign its secret and melancholy joy. People are apt 
to say, " How sad for such a young person to be 
taken ! " when death happens early. I believe this 
is seldom the feeling of the young, unless they have 
already gone far enough under the real shadow of 
death to be able to appreciate its gloom and terror, 
with fancies as vivid as the inexperienced bring to 
bear upon the more definite sorrows of life. Keen 
affliction causes in young hearts such astonishment, 
such fresh pangs of grief, they cannot believe them 
common to humanity, and so they will often persuade 
themselves that it is for the especial purpose of 
quickly weaning them from life, that the time of 

* Jeremy Taylor. 



EARLY DEATH EXPECTED. 13 

trouble is allowed; "indeed," so the foolish heart 
expresses itself, " unless death is shortly to bring the 
crown, this degree of suffering is unaccountable." 
Thus, with a happy ignorance of their future, and a 
curious counterfeit of resignation (flinching from the 
lot to which they are appointed), they enter upon a 
solemn preparation for death, — that may be distant 
by tens of years, — and neglect all that would fit 
them for the peculiar duties of earthly life in its 
usual length. A sense of leave-taking gives an in- 
describable pathos and charm to the ordinary details 
of existence ; it sublimes the most minute occurrence 
to meet it as one of the few more of its kind which 
we are to witness. What can be uninteresting, when 
we believe ourselves on the threshold of eternity ? 
what have power to disturb the heroic calm in which 
the deluded soul is wrapped ? When time bears us 
on, and instead of the haven we find a wider sea ; 
when the expected harbingers of death come not, 
and bodily health is manifestly improving, then is 
the time for heroism; for so feeble is our hold on 
undoubted truths, that when we see no probability 
of death, an unlimited term of years seems to war- 
rant the carelessness of the happy, or the dismay of 
one that is "vexed with all things." From the 
apparent endlessness of immediate prospects, the 



14 MORNING CLOUDS. 

unhappy turn with something like despair. " Blank, 
wintry, dark, unmeasured," the horizon of a colour- 
less present circles the waste of time. They cannot 
believe in a brighter future — the present paralyses 
even the powers of hope. 

You who have not nown this state of feeling, 
and not for once or twice, but for days together, in 
many succeeding years, will think my expressions 
too strong. Alas ! too many will understand all poor 
Leopardi felt when he said, 

" Intanto, io chieggo 
Quanto a viver mi resti, e qui per terra 
Mi getta, e grido, e fremo. O giorni orrendi 
In cosi verde etate ! " 

La Sera. 

When seeking comfort for these, I think it would 
be a mistake to urge them vehemently to consider 
the disagreement of such feelings with baptismal 
vows, and the whole Christian profession : hearts 
which are faint and wounded must be led back to 
the combat with great gentleness. For the pertur- 
bations of spirit which some are allowed to suffer, 
there is no speedy remedy, and it will only increase 
the tendency to desperation, if we allow ourselves to 
speak of it as a strange unholy error that can be 
easily dismissed. 



LONG LIFE DESIKABLE. 15 

But to return to this common anticipation of 
early death ; though I find a sort of amusement in 
recalling my emotions, when it occupied me (since 
I certainly played a part in a solemn drama of my 
own, instead of living with cheerful attention to 
actual things), yet I would in no way speak lightly 
of a persuasion that may be sent for warning, and 
justified by the result. When at every age death is 
frequent, all who believe revelation must continually 
prepare for the final summons, and watch always. 
But, I suppose, it is a duty, with rare exceptions, 
to wish for a continuance of life, and, in all ways 
which do not run counter to our eternal aim, to live 
as if we expected it. It was noted by Dr. Cheyne, 
as his resolution, " to neglect nothing to secure my 
eternal peace, more than if I had been certified I 
should die within the day; nor to mind anything 
that my secular obligations and duties demanded of 
me, less than if I had been insured to live fifty 
years more." 
/ Let us not think it any sign that we love God, if 

(we allow ourselves, when troubles come, to long for 
death. Job earnestly desired it, but the glorious 
hope of a Christian is to be made like Jesus ; — surely 

| this likeness is faintly sought for by those who fear 
to follow Him in the gloom and tediousness of pro- 



16 MORNING CLOUDS. 

longed trial. Remember always, in your most miser- 
able moments, that a merciful Shepherd leads you 
on, — that His injunction to the trembling disciples 
of old is still addressed to each of us, " Fear not." 
And do not doubt that He will give you fitting 
work, though now temporary discouragement may 
hide from you its importance. No seeming insignifi- 
cance, no weakness of mind or body need hinder any 
creature from advancing the glory of God, and the 
good of man. Let us shake off the drowsiness of 
sorrow; let us find out our work, and by God's help 
do it perfectly. Some will answer to this with 
almost a groan : they will say, "It is the very 
misery of our lives that we cannot discover in what 
our work consists; and so our days drift away, 
unused among the rubbish of other wasted lives." 

But supposing your days have no conscious pur- 
pose (and a mournful supposition it is), yet they are 
not necessarily wasted ; even these blank days are 
teaching, if nothing else, pity ; if you are wise, 
many other lessons, equally precious. Do you not 
by them gain sympathy, and the power of helping 
other disconsolate seekers ? Have you not learned, 
once for all, that circumstances cannot make peace 
for the objectless mind? All this, and much besides, 
of which you could give no account now, but of 



FUTURE COMPENSATION. 17 

which you will feel the worth in years of fuller 
occupation. It may now appear a treasure dearly 
bought, but our education in this stage of existence 
is of such tremendous moment, that true wisdom 
accounts the cost to be trifling. 



18 MORNING CLOUDS. 



CHAP. II. 



" Arbeit giebt Kraft-gefiihl, und in diesem bcsteht unser hochstes 
Vcrgniigen." * — Mutter. 



In the abstract, I suppose all will agree that work 
is one of the greatest blessings we have ; that it 
is honourable to labour diligently, and that an in- 
active life is generally a most unhappy one ; but 
though we know this, and entirely believe that the 
petty business of every day has its " outlet to in- 
finity," it comes to us, under many circumstances, 
with a very different aspect. And it is often as 
difficult to decide what our especial work is, and 
how to do it, as to overcome the reluctance to 
obvious duties to which human nature is so per- 
versely disposed. Far more difficult to the thought- 
ful than to any others, reflection suggests hindrances 
in a variety as inexhaustible as the scruples of a 
morbid conscience; and if the reflective mind is 



* Work gives the feeling of strength, and in this our highest 
pleasure consists. 



THE WORTH OF PRESENT TIME. 19 

moreover dulled by an abiding sorrow : if to every 
little effort " weak Grief comes with her withered 
hand," is it strange that sometimes it sinks in utter 
prostration, and believes that all hopes must die 
in * languor and long tears " ? 

Let us, then, fix in our hearts for ever, the 
belief that at all times to do some good is possible ; 
that we live, is proof enough that our Maker " has 
need " of us among our fellow-creatures ; and when 
we really believe this, shall not we rise quickly 
from the dull sleep of melancholy, and employ our 
reason, while we implore His light for the discovery 
of that peculiar service for which the unresembled 
being of each one of us is designed ? 

Roscoe has remarked, when speaking of the youth 
of nations, a fact which I believe to be applicable 
to many individuals : — " Ignorant of that which 
relates to their immediate well-being, they attempt 
to rise into the realms of immaterial existence." 

" It has been the most difficult effort of 

the human mind to divest itself of absurdity and 
error, and to quit its sublime flights for the plain 
and palpable inductions of reason and common 
sense; and hence the due estimation of our own 
powers, although it be of all sciences the most im- 
portant, is generally the latest acquired." 

c 2 



20 MORNING CLOUDS. 

There is such a satisfaction in doing our proper 
work, that this once found and entered upon with 
prudent energy, no place would be left in the heart 
for the intense stimulant of expecting death, and 
searching for intimations of its approach. Though, 
if I do not mistake, there is in early years a much 
looser tie between body and spirit, which makes the 
anticipation of death less appalling then than it 
afterwards becomes. 

It is my belief that every year of earthly life 
more closely unites the opposing elements of hu- 
manity, and that even when the body is kept under, 
this wonderful material life gains upon the spirit ; 
at least thus much, — that it dims many spiritual 
perceptions, and draws the mind more habitually 
towards bodily interests, till by degrees mental 
supremacy is almost shrouded in the apathy and 
humiliating weakness of extreme old age. This I 
believe to be the course of nature ; bright excep- 
tions we may all know ; but who that has reached 
middle age will deny our fatal proneness to be over- 
ruled by bodily sensation rather than by reason and 
conscience ? * Having before us the danger of this 

* Those who are capable of deep reflection, and conscious of lia- 
bility to sloth, or any other habit which gives the body predominating 
influence, would do well to exert themselves to read, and understand 



BODY AND SPIRIT. 21 

encroachment of the animal upon our nobler part, 
every day of life's irrecoverable spring must be 
esteemed infinitely valuable ; and just because it is, 
the ever-recurring question, l( How shall I best 
spend it ? " is beset with so many difficulties. If 
you have the docility of mind common to those 
whose natural powers are strong, you have pro- 
bably put it in some form or other to every one 
you could consult whose judgment seemed to be 
worth having, and probably the opinions given 
have by no means agreed. 



all they can of a treatise of Schiller's, "Ueber den Zusammenhang der 
thierischen Xatur des Menschen mit seiner Geistigen." I cannot pro- 
mise that it will he an easy task, even if read in the English transla- 
tion ; but so great is their danger ivho will only attempt what is easy, 
that an enlightened instinct of self-preservation might, I think, sup- 
port them through the difficulties inseparable from subjects that 
require thought ; and any one who can overcome these difficulties 
will find in Schiller's pages an adequate reward. 

The warnings he gives are not too abstruse for every-day pur- 
poses : — nothing, for instance, can be plainer than this assertion of 
a sad and solemn fact when he says (speaking of the tyranny of 
prevailing appetites) ; " Wider die iiberhandnehmenden thierischen 
Fuhlungen vermag endlich die hochste Anstrengung des Geistes 
nicht mehr, die Vernunft wird, so wie sie wachsen, mehr und mehr 
ubertaubt und die Seele gewaltsam an den Organismus gefesselt." 
(" Against the overmastering bodily feelings the highest effort of the 
spirit can at last do nothing more : reason, as they grow, becomes 
more and more deafened, and the soul powerfully fettered to the organi- 
sation"} — On the Connection of the Animal and Spiritual Nature of 
Man, section 5. Schiller's Prose Works. 

C 3 



22 MORNING CLOUDS. 

I can imagine, or rather remember, several, which 
are likely to have been applied to your indefinite 
inquiries. Some must have told you, with affec- 
tionate earnestness, " not to think so much about 
yourself; " to try and forget self more than you 
do; — excellent counsel! — if it were not so often 
accompanied by comments of a nature which make 
this more than ever impossible. Xow we can no 
more forget self, till there is a degree of peace 
within, than we can forget the body while it is 
in sharp pain. When we can " charm ache with 
air, and agony with words," this general call to 
self-oblivion will succeed in its well-meant purpose, 
but we may, and we must do a great deal, when 
peace is restored, or before it is endangered, towards 
occupying our minds so fully with the interests of 
others, as to free ourselves from the plague of con- 
stant self-inspection. This is what the class of 
advisers just mentioned aim at ; speaking sound 
truths, but in ignorance of the precise nature of 
your need. Another friend might answer in some 
such w r ords as these of Mr. Adam's, in his " Private 

Thoughts : " " With regard to what I read or think, 

© © y 

the question should be, f Is it really interesting ? 
Will such, a speculation improve me in religious 
knowledge, or bring me nearer to God ? ' If it will 



ADVANTAGE OF EVERY ACQUIREMENT. 23 

not, discard it at once." Give heed to words like 
these, but, I beseech you, not an unconditional assent : 
here is an occasion for exercising your keenest dis- 
cernment ; for under such expressions (used by the 
old, and not intended for beginners) have lurked the 
germs of many a plausible pretender to heavenly 
wisdom ; by such many have been misled. In the 
true and comprehensive sense of this passage, no 
Christian can find danger ; in the partial and mis- 
taken acceptance of it, how many snares will every 
thoughtful mind detect. 

Apply this rule to the cultivation of talents : sup- 
pose a taste for music or painting, and ask yourself 
how many in youth can rightly judge whether the 
pursuit of art will bring the soul nearer to God? 
Can the young see all its subtle bearings on spiritual 
growth? or even guess the measure of pure happi- 
ness that through this channel may reach them in 
the thirsty wilderness of after life ? Have they, 
now, ought they to have, any adequate conception of 
the secrets of personal influence ? And yet the un- 
conscious powers to which we refer in the use of this 
vague expression are incalculably strengthened by 
every kind and degree of proficiency. I believe that 
by any advance towards perfection, by any sort of well 
done action, the creature glorifies the Creator. Piety 

c 4 



! 



■ 



24 



MORNING CLOUDS. 



has been so often sadly associated with feebleness of 
judgment and of will, that religious people who in- 
crease their strength in any innocent direction, surely 
help forward the cause of religion. This belief, or, 
at least, this hope, may justly dignify in our eyes 
attention to the smallest accomplishments. I know 
that the eyes of heavenly contemplation are described 
by Spenser as both " blunt and bad " among earthly 
things ; but I cannot see why they should be so in 
seeking those pleasures which diligence and the taste 
of a pure heart may attain. 

To return to the advisers of the doubtful. There 
will be among them some whose buoyant spirit will 
incline them to feel your gravity oppressive ; to think 
it unnatural, the result of cherished errors. They 
will, therefore, attack you with vigorous kindliness, 
determined on cure ; they will call your doubts, and 
even your habit of reflection, morbid; and, while they 
prove the dissonance of your feelings with the uni- 
versal cheerfulness of nature and their own happy 
temperament, almost succeed in persuading you that 
you can at once shake it off, and look only to the 
bright side of things. It happens, however, that 
often, just as they have brought you to own to a 
mind diseased, they unwittingly lose their only 
chance of prescribing for it effectively by a gay 



BENEFICENCE. 25 

protest against thought and trifle weighing. " This 
miserable trick of self-tormenting," they will ex- 
claim ; " why not go with the tide a little more, 
and take things as you find them ? " " These trifles 
are not of consequence; why treat them so solemnly?" 
Enough ; their spell is broken. You must for ever 
divide on that point, though much that they urged is 
undeniable, and truth you are too likely to forget. 
In act and word, in thought and feeling, you hardly 
find anything to be a trifle; and in withdrawing 
gently from a discussion that reveals irreconcilable 
differences of opinion, you will be tempted to apply 
to your adviser Fichte's description of the specimen : 
" Ihr mochtet wohl gern ein wenig vern'nftig 
handeln, nur um Himmels willen nicht ganz."* 
There will be more difficulty in disposing of earnest 
entreaties to spend yourself no longer in the various 
interests of life, but to throw all your energies into 
charitable works ; to let all other things yield to 
that by which our life will be tested at the Supreme 
Tribunal hereafter. The many ill-fed, ill-clothed, 
untaught, and unhelped, whose obscure troubles 
generally surround every home, are eloquently 
brought forward as incitements not to be resisted. 



* You would willingly act a little reasonably, but, for Heaven's 
sake, not quite. 



26 MOKNING CLOUDS. 

Nor let them ever be. By prayer for a larger share 
of Christian love, by every possible effort to do all 
the good to souls and bodies which our sphere of 
action allows, let us strive to fulfil our highly pri- 
vileged duties ; to minister joyfully to the fellow - 
members of Christ's spiritual Body. I fear it is 
seldom that we fully live according to our belief in 
this matter, though the words of the Bible are plain, 
and the promises, infinitely gracious, can shed a glo- 
rious hope round the meanest of our feeble services. 
But we are of little faith : with what coldness and 
apprehensive prudence our small charities are often 
performed ! I would gladly think you open to every 
suggestion of those who place good works foremost 
in every scheme of employment. At the same time, 
I would have you beware of their tendency to narrow 
the scope of charity within the limits of what is tan- 
gible, or of what is direct in its aim ; because the 
greatest blessings man can bring to his fellow man 
are frequently those of which no human eye can take 
cognizance, least of all that of the benefactor. 

And yet they will be charities, and the result of 
all that makes beneficence acceptable,— of self-denial, 
sincerity, love, and the meekness of wisdom ; but a 
result that reaches to the ends of God's mercy by a 
passage so indirect and unforeseen, that in it the im- 



ACCEPTABLE SERVICE. 27 

mediate will of man cannot be discovered. All may 
aspire to these charities while they labour humbly 
for self-improvement and submit to the discipline it 
requires ; those to whom a liberal cultivation of mind 
is afforded may hope, while they suffer its peculiar 
trials, that they are to be instruments of peculiar 
force. 

The question then remains thus modified : i( What 
means of profiting other people does my sphere of 
action allow? You must answer this for yourself; 
since it is remarkable that the actions of each per- 
son, to a degree, blind or dim their perception of the 
worth of other kinds of action ; and she who has 
spent many years in working for the poor with her 
hands, may not always see the equal fitness of the 
exertions of another in village schools ; still less of 
those, seemingly self-ended, which occupy the studious 
cultivator of mental powers or artistic taste. If I 
may venture to offer an opinion where only con- 
science and an enlightened judgment can decide, it 
shall be this : that first the natural tastes, and then 
the means given, in your allotted circumstances, for 
their indulgence, are, so to speak, providential hints 
of the way in which time (when unclaimed by more 
determined duties) will be most advantageously 
employed. 



28 HOKNING CLOUDS. 

Only see to it, that in such occupation, not pas- 
time, but increase of ability is gained ; and in every 
act, self-imposed or required by others, remember 
the words of your Master, — " He that is faithful in 
that which is least, is faithful also in much, — " as 
applicable to every worker, both for warning and 
encouragement. You may truly serve Him in that 
which appears least, in what is only done to please 
a child, to soothe an impatient person, or to break 
off an unpleasant personal trick of your own. 



VALUE OF MENTAL POWER. 29 



CHAP. III. 

" My intent is, without varnish or amplification, justly to weigh 
the dignity of knowledge in the balance with other things ; to take 
the true value thereof by testimonies and arguments divine and 
human." — Bacon's Advancement of Learning. 

There is great variety of opinion as to the advan- 
tages of mental culture, beyond the average mea- 
sure allowed to well-bred women. To you for 
whom I write, the problem is more likely to be : 
"How can it be carried on most wisely?" then 5 
<( Shall I apply myself to self-cultivation ? " for, with 
you, it is almost as much a necessity, in some shape, 
as daily bread ; if it were not, your patience would 
not have lasted to this point of the mental chart, 
which I am endeavouring (though how imperfectly !) 
to draw out. 

In these days, intellectual attainments are valued 
so highly, that there will be no danger of any young 
person forgetting them in her search for worthy aims ; 
but the excess to which the admiration of intellect 



30 MOKNING CLOUDS. 

is sometimes carried, will perhaps lead the way, in 
some minds, to a depreciation of it quite as unwise. 
For, as Sir Thomas Browne remarked long ago, 
" Because the Apostle bids us beware of philosophy, 
heads of extremity will have none at all— an usual 
fallacy of vulgar and less distinctive brains, who 
having once overshot the mean, run violently on, 
and find no rest but in the extremes." In order to 
secure ourselves from false estimates of the worth of 
mental power, it will be well to set down, as clearly 
as we can, what is to be hoped, and what feared, from 
its utmost perfection. You may still hear strange 
doubts and stranger assertions on this subject : ridi- 
cule which seems to imply a latent contempt for 
any gain not reducible to coin, or personal effects ; 
and praise that places intellectual power highest 
among the possibilities of a human being. Before 
I advance my own opinions on this question, I should 
like you to see how ably both sides of it have been 
treated by two well fitted to decide ; by Miss War- 
burton, in the chapter upon Genius, in her <f Letters 
on Happiness ; " and by Mr. Buskin, in the " Stones 
of Venice," vol. iii. page 49. If my acquaintance 
with literature warrants me in attempting to calcu- 
late the number of votes for or against high culti va- 
cs o 

tion of mind, I may say that, for one writer, who on 



VALUE OF MENTAL POWEB. Si 

any but exclusively religious grounds, has taken Mr. 
Ruskhrs view of it, twenty have unconditionally 
urged the keenest pursuit of knowledge. 

But are they justified in so doing by the verdict 
of Solomon ? For Avoinan one danger is obvious : 
absorbed in the invisible labour of the mind, how 
can she have her quick senses and delicate tact ever 
readv for the service of love ? How shall she make 
home the blessed place it may be, if every day she 
is raising her inner life to thoughts for which those 
about her have no taste and no conscientious call ? 
\Ye must find a satisfactory answer to these ques- 
tions, or give up for her the cause of strong intellect. 
The answer which satisfies mv mind is this : nothing 
is created by God in vain; there is nothing in its 
nature good, that He wills to be without purpose. 
If a woman has a mind which hungers for know- 
ledge, I believe she need not fear to seek it dili- 
gently : it is a call to wider usefulness, a trust for 
the good of others ; she will love better, and serve 
those she loves more wisely, when the chambers of 
her brain are by knowledge " filled with all precious 
and pleasant riches * ;" yet only so long as she en- 
tirely subordinates intellect to Christian devotedness. 
I suppose there is not a much more miserable crea- 

* Proverbs xxiv. 4. 



32 MORNING CLOUDS. 

ture in this world than the clever woman, who in 
seeking first the enlargement of the mind, has for- 
gotten her peculiar offices of tenderness and affection, 
alienated her heart from its truest nature, and with 
increasing aspirations after imagined bliss, has also 
increased the bitterness of every-day trials. How 
can she be happy who strives to quench her thirst 
for happiness in the scanty measures of a creature's 
mind, daily thwarting the designs of her Maker, 
neglecting her highest duties? These are shoals 
well known and " infamous for wrecks," but there 
are dangers as great, and more subtle in their effects, 
which should be acknowledged and carefully neu- 
tralised. 

A mind highly cultivated is often very fastidious, 
and sad, and irritable from the frequent struggle it 
undergoes when brought into contact with average 
mediocrity. I think it is particularly addicted to 
these painful conditions when first the capacity 
for great and noble exercise stretches imagination 
beyond the limits of present things : at a riper age 
we have generally had experiences which incline 
more to humility and patience than to lofty hopes. 
But the cruel passion of Disgust sets upon the young 
heart with prevailing weapons ; and there are times 
when a sense of the baseness and spiritual penury to 



OCCASIONAL DISADVANTAGE. 33 

which it attributes the cold contentment of others 
seems a hundred-fold worse to bear than any positive 
evil that could be inflicted on itself. I am unable, 
and should be unwilling, to describe all the manifold 
approaches of the distemper which I call Disgust 
for want of a better name : happy are those who do 
not know it, who have not felt this profound dis- 
taste for everything and everybody — this sickening 
of heart, when past, present, and future seem equally 
desert, and every energy is at a stand, craving 
action, but still aimless. 

Fine powers of mind may intensify this form of 
suffering ; but I am much mistaken if they will not, 
in proper training, considerably abate and by degrees 
overcome it. If you languish on what appears a 
barren soil, in what you believe to be the cold 
climate of self-complacent mediocrity, it depends on 
your own efforts whether you also sink into mental 
torpor, or rise patient and hopeful to a more serene 
nnd genial state. These efforts, sustained by a pure 
faith and continued prayer for increase of charity, 
will not fail to soothe both the sadness and irritability 
which arises from uncongenial society ; and, what is 
still better, they may help you to discover un- 
suspected sympathies, and greater nearness to others 
than before seemed possible* 



34 MORNING CLOUDS. 

But from the loneliness of a mind whose springs 
of action are more from the spirit within than from 
its circumstances and the bodily constitution, I sup- 
pose there is no escape ; every aspiring mind must 
be prepared for frequent isolation, but it is an isola- 
tion of which none need be aware or suffer from 
beside ourselves, and therefore no check upon a 
woman's best qualities, In a well-balanced soul it 
may be a vantage ground for the exercise of deepest 
love and most perfect sympathy, giving to it the 
privileges of a lofty tree, which must lift an un- 
protected head to the storm and summer heats, but 
which therefore can afford the wide shelter denied to 
its own superior growth. Like all other forms of 
inevitable pain, I hold the sense of isolation to be 
another acquirement, gained at our own cost for the 
use of others now, for our own blessedness here- 
after. 

Frequent warnings will reach you against pride of 
intellect : do not conclude from this that pride is the 
necessary consequence of its highest developments; 
for assuredly, unless we are more and more convinced 
of our folly, of our utter nothingness when left to in- 
tellect for guidance, this same intellect is in a weak 
state, and there seems small probability of any ap- 
preach to true wisdom. The measure of man's 



ATTENDANT DANGERS. 35 

humility is, I imagine, the truest test of his com- 
parative superiority : if you are not growing in 
unfeigned self-abasement, the knowledge which oc- 
cupies your brain will only make your folly more 
striking to man, and more condemnable in the sight 
of God. 

I fear, even more than " pride of intellect," the 
chill which it often seems to occasion in the heart ; 
because the one is more likely to meet with social 
antidotes than the other. But if Schiller is right in 
warning us that some degrees of warmth are incom- 
patible with a certain clearness of insight — 

"Sie 
" Geben, ach ! Nicht immer Glut, 
Der Wahrheit helle strahlen, 
"Wohl denen, die des Wissens Gut, 
Nicht mit dem Herzen Zahlen ! " — * 

I console myself by believing that here also we may. 
suffer for our neighbour's profit. The warm heart 
and its effusion of feeling, comforts indeed, but it is 
often blind in dealing with others — blind to their 
true good, while a strong mind, guided by love, can 
in many cases effect more help. It is, however, 

* " Alas ! truth's clear and brilliant rajs 
Are not for ever glowing ; 
How blest is he whose heart ne'er pays 
For gifts from knowledge flowing ! " 

Schiller's Light and Warmth. Translated by E. A. Bowring. 

D 2 



36 MORNING CLOUDS. 

foolish to compare the beneficial results of two such 
variously working agents as light and warmth ; and 
profitless, inasmuch as they are seldom to be attained 
by any effort where the tendency to either is not 
innate. Coldness of heart is also more likely to 
be a cause than an effect of clear intelligence, 
since strong feeling is a disturbing force which 
hardly allows the slow ripening of contemplative 
wisdom. It would save us from much unhappiness 
could we, once for all, resolve no longer to expect 
incompatible excellences either from our associates 
or from ourselves. 

The propensity to dreaminess in minds of wide 
scope is an evil which I believe to be quite sus- 
ceptible of cure ; it is natural to all who are prone 
to expatiate in abstract thought, but so damaging to 
every power of the mind, that we cannot be too 
careful to avoid it by a close and patient discipline. 
Little matters of all kinds are the peculiar subjects 
of a woman's dominion, and if from her delight in 
sublime thoughts she fail to acquire the habit of 
attending to the minutiaB of present facts, she may 
interest by what are called fine ideas, in conversation ; 
but for her home she is lamed ; she is an organised 
mistake, in short not what every woman ought to be. 
Slovenliness of body offends the eye ; as certainly 



NEGLECT OF TRIFLES A GREAT MISTAKE. 37 

will slovenliness of mind bring shame and confusion 
to herself, regret and provocation to others. Think 
no time wasted that you spend in overcoming a 
natural impatience of detail. Accuracy of percep- 
tion and wholeness of attention to one subject are 
costly advantages : I hope you will never learn their 
full value by the trifling but frequent disgrace of 
being found <s in things that most concern, un- 
practised, unprepared, and still to seek." From the 
childish absurdities of pedantic display I suppose 
average good sense will preserve you ; you will in- 
stinctively avoid the disagreeable trick of " dire de 
grands mots, et clouer de Fesprit a les moindres pro- 
pos ; " but bear in mind, as a caution, that the greater 
your attainments the more need you will have of 
minute attention to all that softens manner — to all 
the delicate mysteries of courtesy ; you may other- 
wise find painful proofs of what Mde. de Maintenon 
told one of her pupils, " trop d'esprit humilie ceux 
qui en ont peu." " Soyez en garde contre le gout 
que vous avez pour l'esprit " is her advice ; be care- 
ful never consciously to make your superiority felt, 
is, I think, more to our purpose. 

It is easier to bring forward some of the main 
objections to intellectual ambition, than to enume- 
rate half the blessings to which it may lead. We 

* D 3 



38 MORNING CLOUDS. 

have no exact terms for them, because the real 
enriching of the mind is a process too deep for 
human perception. And though I have admitted 
that it is often the cause of suffering, and always 
involves us in really hard work, yet this increase of 
trouble and susceptibility of pain is as nothing com- 
pared to the reward even here: for all we most 
value — for virtue and love, for truth and liberty 
— we must suffer before we obtain ; and who that 
is worthy of either will deliberately shrink from 
suffering which proves our immortal nature, and its 
glorious destination ? 

That which we have to fear and avoid when 
striving to increase our talents, is a mistaking of 
their purpose ; delighting and resting in them as if 
they were our portion and spiritual stronghold. In 
the present alienation of our nature from what it 
was designed to be, we are liable to this fatal per- 
version of our Maker's gifts ; and it is by His long- 
suffering mercy that we are withdrawn from such 
idolatry by perpetual checks from within and from 
without : when at the highest pitch of self-exaltation, 
how often, " lest she should fail and perish utterly," 
the soul is " plagued " with " sore despair." 

I am anxious to establish a settled belief in the 
advantage of enlightenment, because without such a 






SUGGESTIONS FOR READING. 39 

belief our efforts to improve our faculties will be 
wavering and unsatisfactory. " A principle/' says 
Steele, " that is but half received, does but distract 
instead of guiding our behaviour." Observe that if I 
have presumptuously urged my own opinion, and in 
the strength of private convictions overlooked many 
opposing facts, which, fairly stated, might prove 
what I have said to be full of error, I have at least 
made no pretence of close reasoning ; of this, I be- 
lieve, both my own mind, and the subject before us, 
are incapable. And again I must remind you, that 
the benefits of which I speak so confidently are only 
attainable when cultivation of mind is carried on 
with a fixed determination to make it the servant of 
our higher faculties. The question of much or little 
reading is to be considered as a means to this end, and 
has been discussed by so many admirable writers, 
that I need not again go over their ground. If you 
have not already met with these works, — Todd's 
" Student's Guide ; " Miss Warburton's " Letters to 
my Unknown Friends" and " Letters on Happiness ;" 
and another valuable work called " Woman's Rights 
and Duties," — I hope you will become acquainted 
with them as soon as you can, and draw from them 
much available counsel. Let me suggest for your 
consideration a few self-imposed rules, which in many 

D 4 



40 MORNING CLOUDS. 

years of assiduous reading I have found useful. 
Read no book rather than a weak one. Try to read 
the best that have been written on both sides of a 
disputed point. If you cannot give your whole 
attention, close the book ; if only you will not, 
struggle to tear your thoughts from every other sub- 
ject but the one to which you intend to give them: 
it is often a hard struggle ; but when this victory is 
fully gained, you have at your disposal an unusual 
and an enormous force of mind. As one step to- 
wards this self-conquest, you will do wisely to resist 
the temptation of turning over the leaves, to look on; 
we call it hope w x hen we try to look on to future 
pages of life, and we know how much tormenting 
folly the practice leads to ; in a course of reading, it 
is simply an idle habit of wandering from present 
work, of snatching enjoyment without the restraint 
of concentration. Look back in your book as often 
and as long as your patience lasts, but never dull a 
wholesome appetite by the pernicious habit of skim- 
ming, when once you have resolved to read a book 
through. Of course in some cases the power of 
looking through a book rapidly is valuable ; for, as 
Bacon tells us, " some books are to be tasted, others 
to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and 
digested : " and perhaps we must practise it, more or 



CONCENTRATION. 41 

less, with all writers of whose ability we are not 
certain. Of the average run of modern books, I am 
afraid it is too true that 

" Who reads 
Incessantly, and to his reading brings not 
A spirit and judgment equal or superior, 
* ****** 
Uncertain and unsettled still remains, 
Deep versed in books, and shallow in himself." 

Milton. 

Two of the most useful things a patient student 
can acquire are the powers of concentrated and of 
comprehensive thought. Unless you are gaining 
these, much of your time for reading is wasted, 
wasted for the present ; forming a bad habit for 
future hindrance. You cannot be ignorant of the 
bad effects of overloading the mind with more than 
it can thoroughly appropriate ; if you are fond of 
reading, take great care that you do not do this : if 
you will take pains to examine yourself often as to 
what ideas you have taken in, what impressions 
have been consigned to memory, what clear # shapes 
stamped on the imagination, you will gain from 
books real possessions, and not only pastime. You 
may object to this that I am prescribing for a reader 
who has already strong powers of mind, who has 
already " inured " herself " to works of science and 



42 MORNING CLOUDS. 

argumentation: " not so, — I would fain have one or 
two such readers, though they can get help from 
many a richer vein of instruction; but to those least 
studiously inclined I would say the same, and fall 
back for support on the good old axiom, " What is 
worth doing at all, is worth doing well." I believe 
entire idleness to be less hurtful than the negligent 
attention of a divided mind ; and I think we should 
do well to ponder on what Dr. Chalmers remarks of 
the "vast importance of the faculty of attention, 
both as the intermediate link between the moral and 
intellectual parts of our nature, and as the great 
instrument for the cultivation of the heart." 

One hears a good deal about the severe require- 
ments of our modern standard of education ; but I 
fear it has not led to a very accurate amount of 
knowledge, in the greater proportion of your con- 
temporaries : if you only care to know about as 
much as other people generally do, you have a toler- 
ably easy task before you. Yet even that degree of 
knowledge must be thorough in its way, or you will 
be in danger of frequent blunders, and all the humili- 
ation of a pretender. 

While arguing in favour of the highest branches 
of study, I should be sorry to leave lighter reading 
unnoticed, because I am convinced that its use is 



NOVELS. 43 

frequently underrated, in theory ; practically, we all 
understand the refreshment of an amusing book ; but 
most of us, finding the pleasure we derive from such 
reading too great to be given up on the least occasion 
of duty, seem willing to make amends for the abuse 
of a daily blessing by occasional condemnations of it 
in cool judgment. 

Now in this matter, sober judgment and eager 
delight are not incompatible ; find the right time for 
light reading, and keep to that time, and reason will 
give it full sanction. It is indeed recreation, by 
which our jaded energies are quickened anew. De- 
sultory reading, the aimless loitering over any book, 
idle or grave, that falls in your way, will seldom if 
ever recreate ; but I believe an attentive half-hour 
given to any able writer will. If you refuse, on 
any grounds, the humble services of diversion now 
and then in the course of each day, believe me the 
powers of your mind and your body will both be 
lessened ; nothing is so sure to enfeeble them as a 
strain too prolonged. 

The young have been warned against the ill 
effects of works of fiction ever since good and wise 
people have been able to write ; let us understand 
what these pernicious works are. A one-sided 
party history ; an exaggerated portraiture of cha- 



44 MORNING CLOUDS. 

racter in biography ; moralisings that ignore what 
human nature really is, and careful siftings of theo- 
logical arguments no longer opposed, with many 
other well intentioned, but weakly executed writings, 
are, in my opinion, more dangerous, more full of fic- 
tion, than hundreds of the novels and poems included 
in this suspected class of books. For a novel or a 
poem that is really worth reading has its whole 
essence based on truth; it is the artistic develop- 
ment of truths too subtle perhaps for the notice of 
common observers, but too deep-rooted in humanity 
to be unrecognised by all, when uttered. You 
cannot be too familiar with such works when their 
magic is unsullied by moral impurity; and from 
acquaintance with those that are, either the warning 
of friends or your own instincts will, I trust, for ever 
deter you. 

I know that I advocate an opinion that will be 
scouted by many, when I profess no great reluctance 
to young minds feeding largely on romances, and 
even second-rate novels. I look upon it as a tem- 
porary disease which will pass away harmlessly if 
their nobler appetites are at the same time supplied 
with suitable provision. While there is an inclination 
for the rubbish of literature, I firmly believe it may 
be satiated without permanent damage ; and perhaps 



NOVELS. 45 

the soil on which all the novelist's trash was piled 
may be left something richer for that incongruous 
accumulation. The heart itself, the imagination of 
-which is only evil continually, will, unaided, produce 
the wildest and the most perilous webs of fiction — 
and cherish them with a closer grasp when they have 
the prestige of being unparalleled by any external 
impression: whereas the novel reader finds her 
tender dreams tossed about in broad daylight, and 
suffering all the vicissitudes of the first, second, and 
third volume. Her own emotions being thus vul- 
garised, and evidently worked up for sale, the reader 
must be an incurable if she continues to expect the 
perfect denouement of her private romance, or the 
prolongation of third- volume ecstasies. 

I should not dare so openly to oppose current 
doctrines on this subject, if a careful consideration 
of the full-grown novel reader and the mature 
abstainer from their stimulants had not made me 
feel towards these last something like the anxiety 
entertained for adults who have not had the measles. 
At so late an age both measles and novels may take 
a very serious hold on the constitution. For one of 
the many positive goods that we owe to novels, let 
me remind you of their service as looking-glass 
monitors. In them you may detect numerous little 



46 MOKNING CLOUDS. 

flaws in your own habits of thought and action, which 
hardly any friend would have the skill, even if cou- 
rage was not wanting, to make you aware of. And 
again, how useful they are for widening sympathies, 
and leading the imagination towards sorrows and 
difficulties which in your own nature you might find 
no trace of, and treat as groundless in consequence. 

Many are from their circumstances unable to gain 
an enlarged knowledge of human nature as it ap- 
pears in real life ; and since, without a tolerably 
accurate estimate of humanity, the wisdom and 
leniency required in dealing with it are impossible, 
it is often profitable to study it in all the varieties 
which the novelist and essayist have represented. 

Each may give a somewhat distorted, or at least 
an over-coloured, view of the human heart (that 
unfathomable abyss which we never weary of sound- 
ing) ; and familiarity with a few of such pictures 
may mislead ; with many must in great measure cor- 
rect false impressions, and restore to us a true per- 
spective of life : even the glaring exaggerations of 
unskilled writers will serve to convey some truth to 
a sensible mind, by rousing it to conscious rejection 
of error. If, therefore, you will give an hour a day, 
suppose the most weary part of it, to the rest of 
what is often called idle reading, I venture to predict 



THE USE OF LIGHT READING. 47 

that you will gain in tact, humility, and forbearance 
towards others. The companion whose last harsh 
word or look of unexplained dejection surprised you, 
may not choose, may not be able, to explain the 
cause of irritation, but your hero and heroine in the 
confidence of printed complaints will freely dilate on 
the origin of unsuspected grief, and afford perhaps 
the clue you want, — thereby enabling you (if you 
know the high privilege of insight) to " guess at the 
wound, and heal with secret hand." 



48 MORNING CLOUDS. 



CHAP. IT. 

" "Well sounding rerses are the charms we use, 
Heroic thoughts and virtue to infuse ; 
Things of deep sense we may in prose unfold ; 
But they move more in lofty numbers told ; 
By the loud trumpet, which our courage aids, 
We learn that sound as well as sense persuades." 

Waller. 

I feel great hesitation in entering upon the subject 
of poetic tastes ; in part because my own habit of 
mind may lead me to place them too high among 
means of happiness. 

If eyes fall on these pages to whom the very 
shape of verses promises weariness, who would 
rather be asked to read anything than a poem (I do 
not only mean the manuscript verses of a friend), 
let them skip here without pause. The taste for 
poetry is so clearly dependent on organisation, 
that, where it is entirely wanting, it would be vain to 
try to form it ; equally foolish to regret its absence. 
I suppose there is always an insensibility to pain 
together with incapacity for thrilling pleasures; an 
adequate compensation for a faculty withheld. The 



THE POETIC TEMPERAMENT. 49 

unpoetical mind is spared a hundred vibrations of 
pain that alternate with keen delight in a poetic 
temperament ; still, it is from a deficiency in the one, 
and not, as many will have it, from morbid pecu- 
liarities in the other, that this difference exists. All 
I ask from the despisers of poetry is a candid recog- 
nition of this, and a freedom from the vulgar trick 
of laughing at what they cannot duly appreciate. 
No one is to be blamed for being without this or 
that taste; but good sense, and the modesty not 
always combined with common sense, are justly 
required from all. It is true that lovers of poetry 
are open to many reasonable attacks from the 
matter-of-fact professors : these charge them with a 
romantic handling of every-day affairs ; an over 
delicacy ; a tendency to exact high-strained expres- 
sions of feeling ; an undue value for colour, and an 
ignorance of substance, in all their transactions. 

There is truth enough in these accusations to serve 
as a warning. The joy you feel in lovely objects 
and beautiful thoughts may increase every year you 
live ; but unless you are prepared to let go your 
hold upon things that are real though distasteful, to 
live at variance with society and nature, and to defy 
common sense, you must temper ideal pleasures with 
the wholesome bitters of experience, you must spare 

E 



50 MORNING CLOUDS. 

no pains in gaining a thorough acquaintance with all 
such practical matters as may depend upon your 
care, and keep strict watch against your constitu- 
tional proneness to " monster nothings." A poetic 
eye sees things with quite another lens than that 
which is in common use ; it does not follow that it 
sees things incorrectly, it may be as the magnifying 
glass of the telescope, by foresight seeing objects in 
larger proportions than they have yet assumed to the 
more careless glance, but each sharp stone detected 
on the distant road is often actually there, and may 
be felt by all by and by ; or it may anticipate the 
diminishing powers of memory, and throw into the 
miniature frame of retrospect threatening obstacles, 
or gaudy pomps of to-day ; and so see things as 
indeed they soon will be. That for which this mar- 
vellous eye is most dim-sighted, is common perspec- 
tive ; hence many grotesque contrasts between the 
views of the poetical and the practical observer. 
Also when it is turned inward to study emotions, so 
much colouring from pathos and imagination is added 
to inevitable sorrow, that harder natures are to be 
excused if they lament over a poetical, as a sickly 
turn of mind. But let these stout champions of 
common sense have patience, they see only one small 
part of the sensitive nature ; it is, let me be pardoned 



ITS SYMPATHETIC TENDERNESS. 51 

for saying so, wider and deeper than they know : 
these same victims of sentimentality have an elastic 
strength that will astonish when it is elicited ; and a 
tenderness of heart, when enlarged by true Chris- 
tianity, that will strangely soothe those who were 
wont to pity their softness, should they be smitten 
down by griefs not imaginary, in this world of 
sudden changes. 

It will then be found that the dreamers under- 
stand the sorrow of others ; though theirs have been 
the subject of wonder or ridicule; utter prostration 
of mind and entire abnegation of hope as soon as 
thick clouds darken around, they recognise, for what 
were called fanciful miseries, gave them a long train- 
ing in every variety of sadness. They can now offer 
the sympathy they could seldom, if ever, receive. 
" 'Tis all men's office to speak patience, to those that 
wring under the load of sorrow ; " but these whim- 
sical minds feel it most especially theirs, and are 
sometimes skilful in all the arts of consolation. 

Perhaps no mental endowment is so easily per- 
verted, overgrown, or lost as the poetic taste; though 
nearly resembling an instinct, it will often die out 
when unnourished, and still more frequently is it 
warped in a wrong direction by subjection to the 
rules of popular and superficial critics. 
E 2 



52 MORNING CLOUDS. 

Beware of excessive influence from literary tyrants 
if you would have your pleasure in poetry pure and 
deep ; dare to indulge your own opinion of what is 
and what is not poetry in the books you read — yet 
only as an individual predilection, not as a fair cri- 
terion; this at an early age it can hardly be. The 
poetry which now charms you has merits, assuredly, 
that deserve some admiration, but it is very probable 
that you will have exhausted this charm and found a 
higher standard of poetic excellence in a few years' 
time. It is now perhaps the feelings, the thoughts 
conveyed in verse that most attract you; if your 
nature is framed to taste the truest beauty, you will 
find yourself by degrees, what I must be allowed to 
call, more disinterested in your admiration ; and the 
form, the music, and perfect symmetry of a poem 
will then be more precious to you than the moral or 
sentiments now, though pleasure in these will re- 
main. Be prepared, however, to find yourself in an 
honourable minority at this stage of advancement. 
Hundreds of people, women especially, believe they 
love poetry in its highest sense, because they wel- 
come like the voice of a friend sweet verses, rich in 
pathos and powerful in the description of well-known 
sorrow and oft-felt consolation ; but they would feel 
precisely the same kind of delight in hearing an 






INDEFINABLE EMOTION. 53 

eloquent sermon, or elegantly expressed aphorism ; 
and were you to try them with a few pages of 
Keats's "Hyperion," or with Tennyson's "Dying 
Swan," their evident restiveness under the infliction 
would satisfy you of the mistake they are under. 
Would not many ask what was the point, the moral 
of such poems ? what was aimed at ? wishing for a 
definite result of all these fine-sounding lines. You 
must, as gently as you can, set aside a question 
whose true answer you may perhaps feel without 
being able clearly to express it.* Who can explain 
why that which to others seems " a tale of little 
meaning, though the words are strong," is to them 
full of delicious magic ? Has the low thunder of an 
advancing tide any defined meaning? the serene 
surprise of a summer daybreak or the sighs of a 
gusty wind in fading woodlands, any distinct message 
to the heart? They speak to it, indeed, but in a 
tongue " no man can understand ; " those whom they 
affect with sudden ecstasy know not why such vague 
impressions tell of immortality, and soothe so many 
of the ills of life, yet they would not exchange these 

* Nichts streitet mehr mit dem Begriff der Schonheit als dem 
Gemuth eine bestimmte Tendenz zu geben." — Schiller's B. iiber 
cesthetische Erziehung, Brief 22. 

Nothing is more opposed to the idea of Beauty, than giving the 
mind a definite direction. 

e 3 



54 MOENING CLOUDS. 

moments of rapture for all the dull satisfaction that 
the understanding can measure. To them lf A thing 
of beauty is a joy for ever ; " and in nature such joys 
are everywhere to be found. If this source of hap- 
piness is open to you, strive to keep it pure by 
humility and thankfulness, to avoid any obtrusive 
notice of your tastes when you ought to see that 
they cannot be shared by your companions. You 
probably owe these refined enjoyments not only to 
natural gifts, but also to the leisure which enables 
you to give them free play ; do not then expect them 
to be understood by those whose days have been 
spent in toilsome labours of mind or body, still less 
by those who have been engrossed by affectionate 
cares, so occupied with living objects that any notion 
of isolated pleasure is foreign to their thoughts. 
Contempt or depreciation of unknown blessings in 
persons of strong bodily mould is often excusable on 
the score of buoyant animal spirits ; but should you, 
even in thought, despise another for want of tastes, 
in great measure attributable to the immunities of a 
delicate frame, that breach of wisdom and love will 
render you far more pitiably deficient. When this 
contemptuous tone of mind prevails (that there are 
temptations to it cannot be denied), ostentation and 
a vain-glorious love of your own refinement is seldom 



EXCLUSIVE TASTES. 55 

far off, and from truth and real beauty you will fall 
apace. You who scorn another for the lack of what 
you possess, unconsciously claim and inevitably seek 
admiration for that possession. If given to this 
foolishness, I entreat you to take St. Paul's words — 
" What hadst thou that thou hast not received ? " 
and preach to your own heart the sermons which 
will best arouse it. 

To return from considering the abuse of a noble 
gift to the means of its due exercise. I think it is 
best nourished by variety of style : favourite books of 
course will be selected, and their beauties rooted in 
the mind " never grow sere ; " but it is of great im- 
portance to acquire a liberal taste, an aptness to 
detect and welcome true poetry in every disguise of 
fashion in which it exists. 

It seems to me a mistake to compare writers whose 
only point of resemblance is vivid poetic feeling, 
whose expression of it is necessarily as different as 
their natures and circumstances were ; and it sur- 
prises me to hear Crabbe and Scott, or Byron and 
Keats gravely compared, almost as amazing to my 
mind as the frequent assertion that since Milton, or 
Pope, or any other emperor of the speaker's ima- 
gination, no great poet has been born. Among our 
young contemporaries we generally find either 

E 4 



56 MORNING CLOUDS. 

Wordsworth or Tennyson raised to this solitary 
height of admiration, yet I doubt whether a mind 
given to this monarchical system in the domains of 
taste adequately enjoys even the genius it idolises. 
We owe this disease of comparison, this childish par- 
tisanship, in great measure to the critiques of some 
of our once popular reviewers ; they were expected 
to decide upon the merits of certain writers, who 
appeared to them more as candidates for their ap- 
proval tfean as those to whom the gratitude of suc- 
ceeding ages is due. This error naturally threw the 
mind of the judge into a wrong attitude, and the 
consequences, the trifling tone of shallow criticism, 
the sneer at sublimity beyond their compass, and 
emphatic praise of smooth mediocrity followed of 
course. All this would be provoking if reviewers 
were not so unenduring a tribe, and if their attacks 
were always directed by consistent rules of criticism; 
but like true servants of Fame, they give such varying 
verdicts on the same things, we have known such 
outbreaks of ridicule at the opening of a first edition, 
and so sudden a clamour of praise when the fifth and 
sixth were run through, that the poet must quickly 
learn to brush off both their honey and their stings, 
and the public to choose for itself. 

I shall not attempt to notice the peculiar claims of 



RESPECT FOR OLD FAVOURITES. 57 

each of our celebrated poets on your admiration, lest 
you should think mine overstated ; and if I tried to 
do so, I could only point out some few of their 
mighty arts. One valuable preparation for all reading 
I propose — a belief that the readers of by-gone years 
were as likely to have a correct taste as ourselves, 
and a respectful wish to be pleased with what has 
instructed and charmed hundreds of our predecessors. 
Since their time we may have gained clearer light, 
and the utterances of genius on some particulars of 
which they were ignorant; but they have bequeathed 
to us, undiminished in genuine worth, writings once 
deemed incomparable, and it is our privilege to 
enjoy both the old and new treasures of literature. 

It may be that the tendency to rejection in early 
life is as much a proof of mental vigour as the kick- 
ing force is in childhood of bodily robustness. You 
have certainly much trash of all dates to choose from; 
al 1 I desire is that exclusiveness should not be con- 
sidered a mark of good or fine taste. 

There is one poet from whose wide empire no age ( 
or individual peculiarity ought to exclude you ; you 
cannot be too familiar with the writings of Shak- 
speare, you cannot admire them too much. One 
generation after another tries to express the delight 
and astonishment this man causes to his fellow men, 



58 MORNING CLOUDS. 

yet his genius remains beyond the reach of analysis, 
superior to all praise, and in sympathy with every 
heart. 

When I wish to speak in the behalf of imagination, 
as a high faculty deserving the most patient culture, 
I feel strong in my own convictions, but weak to 
express them. And I think I am unsupported by 
precedent. At this time I cannot recal more than 
one great authority*, among English writers, who 
has sounded on this string the reveillee of reason : 
yet the restless activity of English minds, and their 
covetousness for tangible results of action, especially 
need balance from this neglected power. The fol- 
lowing passage from Coleridge's Literary Remains, 
was the first in which I found its value duly recog- 
nised. (e In the imagination of man exist the seeds 
of all moral and scientific improvement ; chemistry 
was first alchemy, and out of astrology sprung as- 
tronomy. In the childhood of those sciences the 
imagination opened a way, and furnished materials 
on which the ratiocinative powers, in a mature state, 
operated with success. The imagination is the dis- 
tinguishing characteristic of man as a progressive 
being, and I repeat that it ought to be carefully 
guided and strengthened as the indispensable means 

* Francis Bacon. 



SCHILLER'S TEACHING. 59 

and instrument of continued amelioration and refine- 
ment." Since his time Ruskin has not suffered the 
subject to be forgotten; in Schiller's Letters on 
Esthetic Culture, we are furnished with the fullest 
examination of it, and I believe that whoever wishes 
to gain insight into the principles of taste, to know 
the true relations of beauty to the soul of man, and 
the discernible operations of the imaginative faculty, 
must read these admirable letters ; some labour of 
mind is required for their study, either in their 
original language or in translation, but all that is 
given will be richly repaid. 

Though on first reading the only immediate gain 
will be a clue, thrown out here and there, leading to 
deep mines of wisdom, yet whoever is capable of 
enlightenment as to their mysterious contents, will 
esteem these to be of incalculable value, and year 
after year will draw more largely upon the secret 
wealth. That one of the main uses of imagination 
may be understood, I shall give Schiller's own words 
from another of his essays : he is speaking of dif- 
ferent styles of writing, and among them of the 
highest order, that in which both the understanding, 
and what he calls the representing power, are appealed 
to ; and he says, that such a style will secure com- 
paratively few readers : " Denn so selten es schon 



60 MORNING CLOUDS. 

ist, auch nur denkende Leser zu finden, so ist es doch 
noch unendlich seltener solche anzutreffen, welche 
darstellend denken konnen."* "For rare as it 
is already to find thinking readers, it is yet infinitely 
more rare to meet with those who can think and 
image " (that of which they read). My loose trans- . 
lation is a clumsy medium for the precision of 
Schiller's terms, and I refer you to the admirable 
essay from which I quote for fuller explanation of 
their purport, — it is this rare operation of mind 
that he speaks of, to which I believe more at- 
tention should be given: the power by which we 
vividly imagine the things of which we think. It is 
natural to some, let it be prized by them as a great 
advantage ; it may be acquired with difficulty by 
others ; it ?nust be, if we would not sacrifice one of 
the most potent faculties of the human mind to the 
evil habit of being only passively impressed, — the 
common folly of overloading a torpid brain with 
words that convey no definite idea, and mental pic- 
tures too faintly coloured to awaken even a passing 
interest in their meaning. Words were originally 
more or less accurate representatives of things ; they 

* Schiller, Ueber die nothwendigen Granzen beim Gebrauch 
schoner Formen. 



IMAGINATION A HELP TO MEMORY. 61 

are now often used as vehicles of imperfect thought 
and uncertain feeling; an unavoidable use of lan- 
guage when thoughts and feelings are as closely 
observed as external objects ; but it is a use which 
deadens imagination. We know that in the mind of 
children every page of a story is supplied with 
scenery so clearly painted that after-years often 
leave it undisturbed in the depths of memory ; and 
why is this sharp impress wanting in the more mature 
intellect? Not only from the accumulation of im- 
pressions, not only from the dulling tendencies of 
age, but I believe mainly from the confusion of 
notions and images that pass over inattentive minds, 
and the gradual weakening of imagination either 
from satiety or starvation : either will make it lan- 
guish; a constant succession of exciting tales will 
make it impossible for the mind to surround each 
crisis with imagery ; while total abstinence from all 
stimulus causes apathetic reception of it, when at 
last it is applied. I suppose no one will deny that 
if they could read any recital of history or fiction, 
with the whole mind absorbed, vivifying the descrip- 
tion of all that was done, and sympathising in all 
that was felt, they would not so often be obliged to 
say, " I read all about it a very little time ago, but 
really I cannot now remember the particulars. I 



62 MORNING CLOUDS. 

think it was so and so." To my mind a mortifying 
confession which amounts to, " I spent time to little 
or no purpose, and all I know now on that subject 
is, that I ought to know more." Of course the 
faculty of memory may be naturally weak in some 
cases, and its hold incurably slight ; but this is surely 
an exceptional plea for excuse. 

We lay the blame on authors, and a large share is 
their due, for undeniably many have written in a 
manner that insures vague information while we read 
and entire forgetfulness when we shut the book ; but 
not only do we owe to ourselves the vexatious folly 
of reading a weak book: we have, when confused 
impressions are our habitual earnings, indulged lazy 
habits, we have allowed our minds to be passive 
when they should have been vigorous agents. 

There are, in this business, no exceptions to 
Schiller's rule, ee Der Geist besitzt nichts, als was er 
thut"* If you read with spiritual keenness, as 
well as with bodily organs, could you so soon for- 
get ? And this brings me back to the use of poetry, 
in which the strong stamp of passion, or the light- 
ning glimpse of more than earthly beauty, fully 
rouses the imagination ; under such influence it acts, 
it fills its mysterious arena with brilliant or sombre 
* The spirit possesses nothing but what it performs. 



UNPUBLISHED DRAMAS. 63 

processions ; it carries us to a world safe from the 
calamities of actual life; it surrounds us with the 
wealth of dreams, without their anarchy. It is 
these enchantments that the matter-of-fact adviser 
dreads; jealous of these imaginary crowds, fearing 
their intrusion unsought, their fruitless occupation of 
time and power applicable to external affairs : a very 
reasonable fear ; imagination is as a slave most ser- 
viceable, but an inflicter of hard bondage if once 
we submit to her rule. Self-control must never 
sleep in a mind that can taste her intoxicating nectar; 
under the check of temperance it proves a precious 
and invigorating draught. 

And let me ask the exclusive lovers of business* 
the despisers of fiction in every shape, what are 
their day-dreams, what inmates do they allow in their 
" chambers of imagery ? " 

Within some, I suspect, a certain well-known form 
in ever-changing attire is apt to cross the silent stage 
over and over again; with dignified bearing and mo- 
dest gesture, refusing the affectionate homage of 
those pigmy shapes that stand round it in less bril- 
liant light. The main actor is self ; an old performer, 
who seldom fails to play an admirable part in this se- 
cluded theatre ; elsewhere his incomparable abilities 
are less known ; and these of smaller outline repre- 



84 MORNING CLOUDS. 

sent fellow-creatures who are probably compensated 
for their subordinate position here (should they hap- 
pen to perceive it) by a more distinguished place in 
their own private theatricals. I may wrong many 
estimable persons by supposing their inner life so 
brilliant. In that hidden world self may still toil 
for visible gain, may receive unexpected profits, and 
surpass competitors in some line of emolument, — 
so tasting by anticipation the solid rewards of their 
diligence; many others will, reject my statement 
with honest disdain, their imagination being con- 
stantly thronged with visions of beneficence, bright 
with all that hope promises may yet be done for the 
good of others, or filled with one dear presence in 
whose service self is only remembered as a help or a 
hindrance to the love it yearns for. 

But none, I believe, will deny that, with some rare 
exceptions, self occupies this debateable ground of 
imagination, dreaming wilder dreams than any of us 
would care to confess : whether of ambition, or love, 
or worldly gain; whether we call them wishes 
or hopes, whether stamped by affection or the love of 
influence, self is still the centre of each, and as self 
is the only agent from whom we can draw immediate 
effects of will, it is right that it should be so ; a law 
of nature which no wise person would seek to con- 



POETIC TASTES INNATE. 65 

travene, but like every other natural tendency, to be 
kept in due subservience. 

And I ask every honest heart, does this habitual 
attention to self need encouragement, or check ? 
Would it not be better to wean it by degrees from its 
narrow world, to give it escape to a calmer region ? 
to introduce new elements of interest into this "jail- 
yard of personal relations ? " This is done in some 
degree by vigorous cultivation of the imagining 
power ; and therefore I plead for it, though at the 
risk of being as tedious on the subject as Akenside. 

The only preliminary to a proof of my assertion 
is the question, l( Have you the power even in em- 
bryo ? " It may take some time to answer decisively ; 
do not let sloth or contempt answer for you. If 
assured that you are absolutely without it, be then 
as certain that your nature does not need the sweet 
stimulus of poetry. Your refreshment lies elsewhere ; 
you have no cause to regret this. Well might you 
regret time spent in trying to force up what the soil 
will never produce, for it is vainly spent, and will 
only serve to dishearten. 

w Men may easily lay aside what they are, but 
never arrive at what they are not," in such concerns. 
But you who discover in your composition any germ 
of poetical taste, let no trouble deter from bringing 

F 



66 MOENING CLOUDS. 

it to ripeness. We will consider what this trouble 
is ; suppose you have a quiet half-hour in a well fur- 
nished library, or within reach of a few standard 
works ; what is your choice when inclined for poetry? 
Longfellow ? or Cowper ? or Mrs. Hemans ? Good, 
pure, and refined in feeling, they will be elevating 
companions ; they have clothed piety and wisdom 
with elegance and true beauty of versification ; but 
in reading their poems, you neither lose sight of self, 
nor extend your intellectual domain ; you do not at all 
exercise imagination ; what delights you in their writ- 
ing is sympathy, a reflection of personal experience. 
You find your own feelings embellished, and you are 
soothed though the mind gains no enlargement. 
Could you by degrees force your attention to beauty 
which less easily attracts it ; could you so lay hold of 
every word in which a poet like Spenser or Keats 
paints his magic glass, as to realise in your imagina- 
tion the scenes that fired his ; could you rise on the 
breadth of his love for all things great and small, and 
pierce with him to those depths of truth which make 
men to feel as if their own troubles were but a pass- 
ing disturbance ; to acknowledge that their 

" higher hope 
Is of too wide, too rainbow large a scope," * 



Keats's "Endymion.' 



THE NARROWING GAUGE. 67 

for prolonged fretting over "myriads of earthly 
wrecks," you would have enjoyed a freedom far more 
refreshing, more suitable to an immortal, than this 
barren contemplation of your own emotions in the 
glass of another mind. But if you take up Spenser, or 
Keats, or Ariosto, or Tasso, it is perhaps heavy work : 
you yawn ; you confess you do not " care for these 
knights and wonderful beings," — and " as for Endy- 
mion, or Pan, or the Titans, what good is it for 
women not allured by classical associations to read 
of monsters who never lived ? Here and there a 
pathetic line comes home to you, and justifies an ap- 
proving pencil stroke, but for the rest it is not at all 
in your way. No, and just the habit of mind which 
gives rise to this distaste will in the course of time 
make your mind as inhospitable to any new idea as 
those of your too conservative elders, whom you ac- 
cused of narrow-mindedness when last your notions 
were opposed by them, because they were new. 

If we only choose to read what is already "in 
our way," our selection may end in being as compen- 
dious as the creed of the young man who told Dr. 
Johnson he could never believe anything more than 
he understood. To see the effects of this in larger 
characters we should look back to the poetry of the 

last ninety years' growth. With a few noble excep- 

F 2 



68 MORNING CLOUDS. 

tions, all versifiers seem to have prostrated their 
office, by addressing themselves exclusively to feelings, 
or rather to the sentimental thoughtfulness which takes 
their place in circumstances that enfeeble the passions. 
The national pulse beating calmly during a long peace, 
it was natural that poets found more interest in the 
inner life of man, where mystery, and combat, and 
sudden woe, are never at an end, than in the respec- 
table drowsiness of external prosperity — they left 
that to be photographed by the light of statistics, 
and animated by leading articles and cutting reviews. 
From the obscurities of the heart they drew their subtle 
web ; with morbid self-scrutiny, they marked every 
shade of emotion, they analysed every tender thought 
and combined all the distracting antagonisms of social 
romance with amazing skill ; and they made very 
free use of the darkest colours. I doubt if any pre- 
vious age has said so much about " utter woe," ray- 
less misery, blank immeasurable despair, and so on, 
as ours ; for being, as I said, the undergrowth of 
rhymers, they were often servile, and exaggerated 
feelings as unscrupulously as self-love in the day it 
is wounded. 

By degrees they reached a climax. I refrain from 
mentioning the names of those, who in my estimation 
soared highest among the clouds of sentimentality, 






RECOIL FROM SENTIMENTALITY. 69 

fearing to offend the taste- of others; for their clouds 
are often lovely, and deserve some measure of our 
admiration : only they have this disadvantage, they 
are too far removed from the dear old earth on which 
we move, from our true nature, and therefore, para- 
doxical as it may sound, from true imagination. 
Hence, the climax was one of absurdity, and caused 
strong reaction. Just now, we have the benefit of 
this counter-current, and must expect to be carried 
by our small poets quite as far the other way. The 
cry now raised among us, is for more sensuous beauty 
in poetry: some modern writers seem inclined to pre- 
sent it to us in more entire undress than is well 
outside paradise; while many appear to me to combine 
passion and sensuous imagery with perfect success, 
and a few benefactors to the human race are awaken- 
ing us to the noblest use of imagination. 

It is common to complain of the dearth of true 
poets in our age, and it is often wondered at, as if the 
same results could follow from totally different condi- 
tions of society. TThen I perceive surprise on this 
head, either in my own mind, or in those of others, 
I compare it to the sighs of a slave to fashion, for the 
gaiety and simple grace of a novice. 

After several centuries of attention to all that 
critics can say, and all that apprehensive respect- 

F 3 



70 MORNING CLOUDS. 

ability can censure, after ceaselessly studying the 
features of our times, with an eye to their por- 
traiture, is there any possibility of fresh impulse 
from the unconscious genius that delights us in 
the writings of our predecessors? Surely no; 
we forfeit their youthful charms, when we learn to 
combine artificial graces with the expression of 
genuine feeling. And so long as ridicule is more 
common among us than admiration, poets will not, 
cannot) sing as they did of old, when the reverence 
and affection of their hearers was secured to them.* 
I do not wish for an impossible return to the general 
want of culture which caused this, I only wish that 
this wide difference of manners should be remembered 
when we call our era unproductive of poetry. 
For pathetic beauty, I suppose the 

" gentleness of old Romance, 
" The simple plaining of a minstrel's song," 

is unequalled ; but it is a step made in advance of 
our immediate ancestors, that the incomparable sweet- 
ness of elder poets is now so fully appreciated, that 

*"Gliickliche Dichter der gliicklichen Welt! von Munde zn 
Munde, 
Flog von Geschlecht zu Geschlecht euer emfindenes Wort: 
Wie Man die Gotter empfangt so begrusste jeder mit Andacht 
Was der Genius ihm, redend und bildcnd erschuf." 

See Schiller's Die Sangen der Vorwelt 



UNEXPLORED MYSTERIES. i 1 

we beoin to see that the instincts of genius in old 
time were more nearly allied to truth and beauty 
than the skilful talents which were once our boast. 

I trust I have not so ill expressed myself as to be 
understood to speak disparagingly of those -'poet 
kings.*' who in our own day " simply tell the most 
heart-easing things ; *' for I gratefully prize their 
thoughtful tenderness : nor would I imply that those 
whose tendency is to dwell on external objects are 
necessarily their superiors, for this I cannot for a 
moment believe : all I have endeavoured to show, is 
this — that higher pleasure, and more fruitful energy 
are developed by familiarity with the few who can 
people an ideal world, aud animate us, until then 
visions are almost as bright as the remembrances of 
another. The chapters on Imagination in Raskin's 
second volume upon Modern Painters will well repay 
you for close attention. 

It would be quite beyond my province, as well as 
my ability, to enter upon the less ascertained offices 
of imagination ; physicians of mind and body refer to 
its secret agency when they would account for many 
mysteries. The recent experiments of influence: all 
that hides under the term of electro-biology, opened 
to us glimpses of natural laws hitherto unrecognised ; 
and for these we find no better name than " effects of 



72 MORNING CLOUDS. 

imagination." That it is not only powerful when acted 
upon, but itself a strong formative principle, is an old 
surmise of writers too ignorant of what we know, and 
too profoundly versed in much that we overlook, for 
the entire confidence of the present generation. 

Leaving mysteries of this nature, for as much or 
as little consideration as you incline to bestow on 
them, I return to things more within our reach : 
making no apology for this long digression, because 
diet, either for the mind or body, is one of the main 
branches of regimen. 

With regard to learning languages, I have myself 
a strong prejudice in favour of it, both as a discipline 
and as a key to unnumbered treasures. 

It is a cheerful pursuit, because success in it ad- 
mits of proof ; progress is assured to you, and it en- 
tirely removes you from the associations of daily life 
— thus giving a wider range to sympathy and imagi- 
nation. It is a great benefit to be induced to study 
the various lights in which the same fact or idea may 
be placed ; to be frequently reminded that our own 
mode of thinking and speaking is not the only way, 
nor even the prevailing custom beyond certain limits; 
for from the days of Sully to the present time, the 
robust egotism of dear England has needed every 
antidote reason and experience could give to keep 



NATIONAL CONCEIT. 73 

it at all within bounds. Sully remarked, after his 
stay in England :— " II n'y a point de peuple en Eu- 
rope plus hautain, plus dedaigneux, plus enyvre de 
l'idee de son excellence ; si on les en croit, l'esprit et 
la raison ne se trouve que chez eux. lis adorent 
toutes leurs opinions, et meprisent celle de toutes les 
nations; et il ne leur yient jamais en pensee ni 
d'ecouter les autres, ni de se defier d'eux-memes." 
This may be a caricature of our national propensities, 
but it is a likeness not to be mistaken, though taken 
three centuries ago. Indeed, you might think from 
some of the forms of speech current among us now, 
that good sense, orthodox piety, and simple eloquence, 
were our monopolies ; you might be led to believe 
every German a sceptic, or lost in transcendant 
nonsense; every Italian a powerless slave to powerful 
passions, a stranger to philosophy; every Frenchman 
brilliantly vivacious, but without depth — for so 
have many determining minds labelled the un- 
known contents of foreign natures. However, 
as these aliens are all fellow-creatures, it is 
but just to give them credit for as much personal 
individuality of character as we claim for ourselves : 
and though we may after long acquaintance with 
their works lament that such and such faulty pecu- 
liarities are characteristic, we shall not again be so 



74 MORNING CLOUDS. 

childish as to sacrifice truth and charity to the pro- 
pagation of an old prejudice. 

Again, learning a language increases our value for 
each single word as well as for each several nation; 
it is a clumsy illustration, but one that may serve to 
give my meaning, to say that the difficult road by 
which every new word reaches the understanding, 
gives time to study its worth and investigate its 
origin, whereas, those used by us from infancy, hurry 
along a beaten path too rapidly for the scrutiny of 
reflection. 

Whoever has compass of mind sufficient for re- 
ceiving the teaching of Coleridge, knows the respect 
due to words. I have freely indulged in quotations 
from continental writers, with the hope that they 
might attract you to some of the pleasantest fields of 
literature. You may think you want time to acquire 
these languages ; but will and perseverance are more 
commonly wanting in the educated classes. Half 
an hour every day, with a dictionary and the book 
whose contents you covet, will do wonders towards 
learning a modern language ; and if you have not 
time for a more grounding system, Ollendorf will en- 
able you to read, at least, with ease and accuracy in 
the course of less than two years. Diligence and 
close attention being supplied of course. 



A POSSIBLE SNAKE. 75 

You may say, (C I am not clever enough : " think 
again; are you not perhaps too indolent to have 
taken a fair measure of your abilities? The follow- 
ing words of advice given by George Herbert to a 
young brother, are worth considering : " Let there 
be no kind of excellency which it is possible for you 
to attain which you seek not ; and have a conceit of 
your wit. Mark what I say, have a good conceit of 
your wit ; that is, be proud, not with a foolish vaunt- 
ing of yourself, when there is no cause, but by setting 
a just price on your qualities." * 

Like many others prone to extravagance in the 
outlay of advice, I began meaning to disclaim the 
pretension of having any to give on the oft-trodden 
ground of literature ; but it is dear to me, and even 
from a few more remarks upon it I will not re- 
frain. 

It seems to me, that we weigh the benefits of lite- 
rature in an unjust balance, when we speak of its 
interests as, in any way, rivalling those of the one 
thing needful; seeing that it is never intended to 
be the glory and joy of our souls, but to occupy the 
many blank hours of life ; to take the place which 
disturbing, fearful, vainglorious, or resentful imagina- 
tions will infallibly possess in our hearts if not strongly 
* Letters of George Herbert in the vol. of his Kemains. 



76 MORNING CLOUDS. 

counteracted. And yet, I confess with sorrow, that 
it is but too possible for the love of literature to 
have the same evil effect, when unrestrained, as the 
lusts of other things in choking the word, and 
making it unfruitful towards God. The variety of 
thought and feeling attained by much reading, though 
it serves to prevent the tyranny of passion, and to 
break the yoke of prevailing error, may also scatter 
the forces of the spirit : may, by degrees, lead us to 
rest upon human wisdom, to turn our minds away 
from the inexhaustible source of life and light and 
love, and to seek all supplies of strength in the 
scanty drops of human intelligence. 

It is as if when invited to speak to the Most High, 
we referred our doubts, our difficult questions, to the 
dumb beasts ; so dumb, and helpless, and undiscern- 
ing is the spirit of men when compared to His who 
in exceeding graciousness declares to man, " I know 
the things that come into your mind, every one of 
them."* Undoubtedly prayer is the noblest exercise 
of which the mind of man is capable ; if to be fervent 
in prayer, is your ambition ; if, as your strength per- 
mits, you press on to a fuller and more faithful com- 
munication with God, the many inferior occupations 
of your mind will only be an additional help ; they 
* Ezekiel xi. verse 5. 



PEACE THAT MAY BE WON. 77 

will be as fuel for the altar ; and as you learn more 
and more of truth you will devoutly rejoice in the 
Saviour, who by truth has made you free. 

As yet, this may possibly sound to you more the 
expression of what ought to be than of what is really 
felt by honest minds ; but I can assure you, in this 
your inexperience misleads. A few more years of 
patient endeavour; of earnest fighting against sin 
and despondency, and you may come to a fulness of 
peace unimagined now : you may then joyfully ac- 
knowledge, that God has put a new song in your 
mouth. 

I cannot state my belief in the use of much read- 
ing better than by quoting the quaint verses of 
Daniel, who says, so long ago as 1579: — 

" And though books, madam, cannot make the mind 
Which we must bring, apt to be set aright, 
Yet do they rectify it in that kind 
And touch it so, as that it turns that way 
Where judgment lies ; and though we cannot rind 
The certain place of truth, yet do they stay 
And entertain us near about the same ; 
And give the soul the best delight that may 
Encheer it most, and most our spirits inflame 
To thoughts of glory, and to worthy ends." 



78 MORNING CLOUDS, 



CHAP. V. 

" He that will be acceptable must give beauty as well as strength 
to his actions. Solidity or even usefulness is not enough ; a 
graceful way and fashion in everything is that which gives the 
ornament and liking. And in most cases the manner of doing is of 
more consequence than the thing done, and upon that depends the 
satisfaction or disgust with which it is received." — Locke. 

Poetry is only one of the modes by which imagi- 
nation is released from its morbid hold on personal 
emotions : if gifted with a love of art in any of its 
workings, you may find the same pure and exalting 
pleasures which I have already claimed as the birth- 
right of a poetic mind. In some respects music and 
drawing have advantages superior to those of poetry: 
proficiency in these can be tested by the senses, — 
always a satisfaction to an embodied spirit, — and they 
also give delight to many who could receive little 
from the taste of a lover of poetry. So that in cul- 
tivating these talents, you prepare yourself to give 
more general pleasure, and you become accessible to 
a wider sympathy ; they may therefore be of great 
use. The temptation to display, seems to me hardly 
worth combating, a.s if it was a consequence of such 



A COMMON ERROR. 79 

cultivation, for I do not find it to be in any pro- 
portion to the abilities that might be degraded by 
display : on the contrary it often appears that, by a 
curious adjustment of human pride to human little- 
ness, we are more apt to display our weakness and 
boast of our emptiness. If we do not pique our- 
selves on possessing knowledge and taste, it is 
probable we shall soon complacently distinguish our- 
selves from others, as having no pretensions to either. 
There is, it must be allowed, a tendency in the ad- 
mirers of any art to overrate its worth, — at least 
when they think or speak of it as a necessary element 
of happiness ; for though they may find it so, it is 
utterly foreign to the apprehension of many who are 
both sensible and happy. In E ngland it is surely a con- 
tradiction of experience to speak of artistic tastes as 
indispensable. Your enthusiasm in their defence may 
often provoke ridicule, but this should only exercise 
sweetness of temper and skill in parrying blind thrusts 
without the assumption of superiority — which supe- 
riority you may secretly believe in, from being igno- 
rant that beauty, like truth, touches different minds 
by means quite as different ; so that the very people 
who speak scornfully of the peculiar objects of your 
admiration often revere those which command their 
own, with a deep and pure delight which you fancy 
them incapable of feeling. 



80 MORNING CLOUDS. 

It is the grave remonstrance against a systematic 
pursuit of beauty either in form, colour, or sound, as 
unsuitable for Christians, which will find you, I ima- 
gine, more defenceless, and perhaps check wholesome 
growth in your constitutional field of action, as hurt- 
fully as the unrestrained worhippers of beauty would 
force it. I have no tried arguments to bring forward 
against the puritan's suspicious fear of beauty, for I 
rest a contrary belief on simple words of Scripture, 
James i. verse 17.: (i Every good gift, and every 
perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the 
Father of lights." If any reasonable creature can 
doubt that the power to enjoy and retain the beau- 
tiful impresses of divine love on a fallen world, is a 
good gift, and from the Father of lights, their opinions 
will be unaltered by anything I could say ; for myself 
the profuse variety of loveliness in all the works of 
God, the infinite sweetness of outline, sound, and 
colour, on all sides of our daily paths, prove — till, to 
me doubting is impossible — that He would have us 
rejoice in beauty, and that in seeking for what is 
beautiful ; while recognising in all we witness His 
tender mercies, we shall honour our Creator, and 
serve Him with an acceptable gladness of heart. 
There are thousands of good people capable of seeing 
the connexion between the abuse of ornamental 



ORNAMENTAL WORK DESIRABLE. 81 

culture in mind and body, and sin : only a few (com 
paratively speaking) and those, I am persuaded, the 
wisest, who can see with a clear perception of adja- 
cent dangers, the absolute duty of cherishing all that 
is beautiful in life. Thus, while volumes of excellent 
counsel have been poured into the mind, on the 
Puritan side of the question, only a few thrilling 
words have now and then escaped from daring 
thinkers on the other : only a few suggestions from 
poets and privileged vendors of theory have passed 
into the public stock of opinions uncensured. Hither- 
to this has been the neglected side of truth ; but we 
have been deaf to a clear trumpet-note*, calling us 
to it during the last ten years with the vehemence of 
profound conviction, if for the future the most exalted 
pietists do not pay more respect to what contemptuous 
folly used to call " mere outsides." And this want 
of balance in the received stock of notions, is so far 
well, that it makes labour, and firm adherence to its 
results, inevitable for all who attempt to pass beyond 
prejudice and " rescue truth." 

Think then, I pray you, of the hours you devote 
to any ennobling art as important sections of 



* Listen to it in the " Stones of Venice," in the 181st page of the 
3rd volume. 

Gr 



82 MORNING CLOUDS. 

your life's work. Do not allow the harassing fancy 
that such occupation is frivolous, or unfitted to your 
high calling, to divide attention : but, on the other 
hand, let none of its fascinations tempt you to relax 
your strict obedience to conscience and reason, wheu 
either says, "Enough of this — more immediate duties 
await you." 

What I have pleaded in behalf of the higher 
branches of handiwork, may, I believe, be applied 
in due proportion to the humble elegance of fancy 
needlework. All needlework is suitable to a woman, 
so that it is useful ; but I do not see why that 
honourable term should only be applied to the con- 
struction of what is necessary, and often inelegant : 
at least, if the permanent nature of calico and linen 
work makes it deserve to be called full of use, I 
contend for this admission, that many pretty trifles 
are of considerable use, though it is not always so 
evident. If people are given to stupifying themselves 
over canvas work or embroidery, they would probably 
find the same satisfaction, if accustomed to it, in ex- 
cess of sewing : the kind of work is not so much to 
be objected to, as the devotedness of a torpid brain 
to insignificant objects. An hour or two given to 
needlework each day will be good both for body and 
mind ; but unless affection or duty require it, surely 



REGARD DUE TO EXTERNALS. 83 

we trifle with oar time when we spend the greatest 
part of the day in needless stitching? 

Last in acknowledged dignity, though in reality it 
occupies a broader place, is the art of dress : and do 
not let us despise it because in theory it is so often 
assigned to the care of triflers. Since by appearances 
we express ourselves to all around us, at all times of 
our life, it greatly concerns its that the expression 
should be habitually as pleasing, and as truly fitted 
to our nature and circumstances, as careful taste 
can make it. To dress becomingly requires a good 
deal of thought, and a patient attention to all the 
niceties of propriety ; need one say more than this to 
prove it a woman's right business ? 

I think those who doubt its importance strangely 
disregard the testimony of those instincts — rooted in 
woman's nature — which, from the little girl's first 
sash to the last cap on the trembling head of the 
aged woman, cry out for adornment : when these are 
entirely wanting, there is disease either of heart or 
head. They may be indulged to a dangerous 
degree — too often they are: but our safety lies in 
directing them to lawful channels, not in a futile 
effort to eradicate what has been implanted by crea- 
tive wisdom. I beg anyone who is surprised to find 
taste in dress insisted upon as a duty, to compare 



84 MORNING CLOUDS. 

their own feelings, some day when they happen to 
be especially ill dressed, with their usual tone of 
mind — I do not mean when untidy hair, soiled rib- 
bons, or torn sleeves have been contentedly sub- 
mitted to — for most healthy-minded women have 
what I can only call a body-conscience, which would 
justly trouble them in disorders of this kind, and 
they would be ashamed of them as disorders ; but 
when there is a consciousness of some flagrant offence 
against the eye in point of colours ; when a delicate 
silk mantle is worn over a common print dress, or 
any other such incongruity of style is manifest, do 
they then think dress a trifle ? Or rather, do they then 
feel it to be so ? Do they then forget their own ex- 
ternals as completely as well-bred ladies should in 
the society of others? Or are they painfully self- 
conscious, and inclined to fancy themselves the 
objects of remark? Would they not then agree 
with Pepys when he says, — " I, not being neat in 
clothes, which I find a great fault in me, could not 
be so merry as otherwise, and at all times I am, and 
can be, when I am in good habitt, which makes me 
remember my father Osborne's rule for a gentleman 
to spare in all things rather than that." Without 
accepting " Father Osborne's " rule unconditionally, 
and being aware that peculiarities of temperament 



WHAT IS ALWAYS BECOMING. 85 

may expose us to an undue sense of this sort of an- 
noyance, I yet believe that if this uneasiness does 
not accompany any glaring mistakes in dress, there 
never will be an instinctive sense of what is be- 
coming (or appropriate), and the insensible dresser 
must consent to draw her rules of taste from those 
who have it — for by all means let every woman try 
to look as well as she may within her natural and 
pecuniary limits ; and never let the happy liberties 
of home be pleaded as an excuse for a distasteful ap- ; 
pearance : nowhere is it more essential to happiness I 
to be pleasing in every way and at all times. 

We cannot, very many of us, be pretty or re- 
markably graceful, but the pleasantness of a neat 
and good-humoured look is denied to none who seek 
it with a right intention. As so many homes are 
beset with the anxieties of a narrow income, it is im- 
possible that all should be well-dressed according to 
the world's standard of fashion, or according to the 
habits of equals in rank ; in these circumstances good 
taste would look upon any attempt at fine lady ism 
as the most ugly absurdity into which an affectionate 
woman could fall. When the purse is very empty 
there must be many a weary altering and turning of 
old materials, in order to make the scanty supply of 
clothing even wearably neat; but when this trial of 

G 3 



86 MORNING CLOUDS. 

poverty is borne with noble Christian courage, and 
its many painful humiliations are soothed by Chris- 
tian contentment, there are spiritual graces adorning 
externals which, to every right minded observer, 
far surpass the charm of elegance and freshness of 
attire. Xo restrictive circumstances need hinder a 
woman from being neat ; and perfect neatness is no 
trifling embellishment. Again, when new things 
are to be bought, though low prices can only secure 
commoner materials and coarser texture than taste 
desires, it may still be gratified by pure, sweet 
colours, nice fit, and fine work, and so produce all 
the most pleasant effects of dress. Believe me, they 
help to increase the sunshine of home life more than 
philosophers often imagine. 

Perhaps I should be telling tales more strange than 
true, to the feelings of others, if I tried to explain the 
temptation which may be prepared for our daily com- 
panions by neglect of personal appearance ; yet it is 
well that all should know how much the few may suffer 
from what literally hurts their eye. It may be from 
extreme irritability of nerve, or the penalty paid for 
great delicacy of organisation, that some people as 
unfeignedly wince at an awkward adjustment of dress, 
or a bad combination of colours, as others do from 
an unjustifiable discord in music, and all from a sud- 






UNREASONABLE SUFFERING. 87 

den blow : they often struggle in vain to forget such 
ridiculous causes of annoyance, but the frightful 
shape of a bonnet, or the brightness of a blue bow, 
outshining a light green trimming, meets their dis- 
liking eyes, and reason is driven backward. The 
unconscious tormentor is perhaps aware that some- 
thing has jarred with the fastidious mind — something 
" gone wrong" — but never guesses the immediate 
provocation : and even between friends and near 
relations there may be many barriers of timidity or 
temper, on the one side or the other, which prevent a 
candid avowal of the cause of disturbance. And, 
besides, there is generally a fund of disgusts and 
miserable fancies at the bottom of it, to which some 
chance piece of ugliness only gave the last impulse. 
A person who has striven for hours against heart- 
sickness and self-loathing, is withheld by pride at 
least from an explosion of complaint when a sister or 
friend goes about in a singularly ugly guise ; but the 
drooping spirit murmurs to itself that this is but a 
specimen of things in general, " like all the rest of 
it." Life is that it — just then a heavy burden to be 
borne. Let none laugh contemptuously at this, or 
blame severely in the strength of right principles ; 
for if it was known what in these dark times the dis- 
tempered spirit undergoes, the gentlest pity would 

G 4 



88 MORNING CLOUDS. 

not seem tender enough : and why ask the cause ? 
Have any of us lived to be twenty years old and not 
known or seen the pressure of causeless melancholy ? 
Can we be ignorant of this, that in some natures, as 
far as the mood of the day goes, and sometimes in 
spite of brave Christian resistance, 

" A thick blood's film, a passion's gust, 
Nay, the most natural, most just 
Impulse — a part of Nature's plan — 
A pride — a shame — can undo man " ? 

Joseph Downes. 

This seems an odd subject to bring into connexion 
with ribbons, but I believe the memory of those who 
smile most at its introduction here will justify it as 
not wholly irrelevant. Where the terrible force of 
association is a familiar fact, its influence in our per- 
ception of externals will be urged against me ; for it 
may be said very fairly, " How really charming ugly 
colours, stiff patterns and the like, have appeared in 
remembrance, and during their presence, when worn 
by amiable people, and how one has hated the studied 
elegance of proud disagreeable associates ! " I grant 
this, but not only do I believe it to be an exceptional 
case, I am also convinced that had the beloved person 
been endowed with better taste, he or she would have 
been still more delightful ; while On the other hand 
I reckon it a slight compensation for the evils we 



woman's best adornment. 89 

suffer from unamiable companions to be spared that 
of superficial uncomeliness. 

It is so difficult to do justice to the claims of the 
eye, without giving them attention disproportionate 
to the objects of this book, that I shall leave them to 
feminine mercy — entreating my young reader to 
observe how distinctly they differ from the restless 
desires of vanity: and to remember always that neat- 
ness, pureness, and finish, are charms which all may 
secure : and that even before your own taste can be 
formed, or allowed to arbitrate in the choice of dress, 
you may, in complying with that of others, add to 
it these crowning perfections, and cherish the orna- 
ment of great price, the u meek and quiet spirit." 



90 MORNING CLOUDS. 



CHAP. VI. 

" Our words and actions to be fair must be timely." 

R. W. Emerson. 

" I believe it is best to throw life into a method, that every hour 
may bring its employment; and every employment have its hour." 

Dr. Johnson. 

Multitudes of wise people have believed this, and 
very many proved it by their life-long practice ; it is 
perhaps one of the first pieces of advice offered to 
dissatisfied youth ; if ennui, or the deeper weariness 
of a doubtful mind is detected, methodical habits are 
prescribed as confidently as the use of tonics for 
bodily weakness. Though inclined warmly to advo- 
cate a regular disposal of time, I think such advice 
unsuitable when the main deficiency is that of a 
settled employment ; it seems to me something like 
recommending accuracy in keeping money accounts 
when the money itself is wanting. It is true that 
all have time to deal with, and all heavy responsibi- 
lity for the use of time, but if the occupations of the 
day are so inadequate to our powers as to leave them 



. 



THE BLINDNESS OF DISCONTENT. 91 

half torpid, so frivolous that the will cannot apply to 
them its strong prevailing grasp, or so contrary to it 
that they occasion continual antagonism — to appoint 
to them regular portions of time, and to be punctual 
in passing from one trifling business to another in the 
succession determined upon, may soothe a weak mind 
but will never satisfy the cravings of a powerful one. 
For such there is no hope of peace, no possibility of 
happiness, till external pursuits are brought into 
harmony with their capacities, till their daily avoca- 
tions are ennobled by the light in which they are 
viewed, by a holy devotedness, or by what is less un- 
common, the perception of useful tendencies in much 
that has been before disdained as trivial, and almost 
loathed as a vain waste of energies. But how many 
at all periods of their life misapprehend the relations 
of commonplace things to spiritual interests ; how 
many, not all lovers of art, " reject life as prosaic, and 
create a death which they call poetic ; " * or, it may 
be, more rational, more refined, in some respects 
better than that monotonous little department of the 
world to which they are bound by Providence ! 
Granting that there are base and unworthy concerns 
in life, which may drag us down by degrees to a 
lower position than that which our natures were fitted 

* Emerson. 



92 MORNING CLOUDS. 

to occupy, we must guard with vigilant humility, 
against this disease of quarrelling with circumstances ; 
never forgetting that when it is impossible to change 
them, it is always in our power to make them fruitful 
of much good, and not a little happiness. I do not 
refer only to the reconciling influence of Christian 
submission, though without this the undesired lot 
must seem intolerable, but to its active workings 
in the mind of an intelligent being, who, knowing 
that all things work together for good to them who 
love God, counts it a dishonour to love, to limit ex- 
pectations of that disguised good to the single opera- 
tion of patience (though that is a mighty, and may be 
a perfect work), and who, therefore, dares to antici- 
pate with sweet confidence a variety of blessings 
from the clouds which darken the immediate prospect. 
This is that resting on the "lap of Providence," 
which recruits every faculty, and prepares us, while 
we wait for the advantages withheld, to make a dili- 
gent use of all with which we are entrusted. For 
this purpose, we must know what these are, and 
carefully endeavour to increase them. According 
to the sad experience of Edward Irving, " a meagre 
and unsatisfying recollection of occasions lost, and 
time misspent," is the portion of almost every man ; 
but why should it be so ? Why should we not every 



93 

day, and every hour, sow good and precious seeds?* 
Be sure of it, there is enough for each one of us to 
do in the exercise of powers peculiar to each, to 
supply abundant value to the most commonplace 
circumstances. And in this, no exception can be 
made either for mediocrity or high degrees of ability, 
the dull must work hard to quicken an apathetic or 
trifling turn of mind, and the clever must strive to 
secure the best usury for their many talents. Genius 
has been rightly called " the power to labour better 
and more availably than others." There is indeed 
nothing more patient in toil, more unremitting in 
pursuit, than true genius. 

Let us suppose then that after complying with all 
the just claims of others upon your time, you find 
some part of every day at your own disposal, and 
often spend a good deal of it in considering what 
you had better do next : will not a fixed plan be of 
service then ? You need never be so far a slave to 
it, as to give it unwise authority in cases of peculiar 
requirements : you need not read when in pain or 
anxiety, because the hour for history reading is 

* " Jede rechtschaffene That, die wir gleich einer niitzlichen Saat 
ins Leben hinein streuen, bringt uns Segen aus demselben zuriick." 

Each rightly done deed that like a useful seed we scatter in life, 
brings back to us a blessing out of it. 

Z.ciokke's " Stioiden der Andacht." 



94 MORNIXG CLOUDS. 

come ; nor persist in staying for another length of 
time at the piano., when clouds warn you that the 
next hour will not allow the usual out of doors' exer- 
cise : neither would common sense suifer you to 
break off in the middle of a calculation or puzzling 
difficulty because the clock had struck, but you may 
be spared the wearying hesitation that wastes so 
many hours in an undecided life ; and what is of 
equal benefit, you may avoid getting absorbed in 
one kind of employment to the neglect of others of 
the same weight. 

It is curious to observe how little our first im- 
pressions are to be trusted at the beginning of any 
sort of occupation ; if the taste for novelty does 
not give an exaggerated notion of its use or plea- 
santness, the new ground generally offers rejDulsion: 
the clumsiness of unaccustomed efforts, the doubt 
of success, and ignorance of attractions proper to 
the subject when more familiar, combine to dis- 
courage us, to make the dullest work in which we 
have felt our progress more inviting. If we valor- 
ously determine to slay these dismaying lions, we 
may enter, and possess for life, many a rich land, 
from which the slothful debar themselves by the 
application of their favourite opiate, " It is not worth 
while.'' Xever forget, in all your calculations of 
what is or is not worth while, that so soon as you 



ESSENTIALS MUST COME FIRST. 95 

become occupied in anything, be it small or great, 
that occupation will Have an emphasis of interest 
never to be accurately perceived while you view it 
in theory, or from the standing point of other kinds 
of business. And this fact ought to warn you 
against being over influenced by habit when de- 
ciding upon the " what next " of your time. The 
rule which helps me in many hesitations as to the 
use of time is this : Let what must be done be first 
attended to, and what may well be done come after- 
wards in the due order of its esteemed worth. 
Simple as this law of precedence appears, I believe 
it would not only form the basis of every day punc- 
tuality, but of a noble proportion in the efforts of 
our internal as well as of our external life : for not 
only would what has to be done by a given time be 
completed before precipitance gives it every chance 
of being ill-done, since, e; each act is rightliest done, 
not when it must, but when it may be best ;" but the 
essentials of duty would be secured before its more 
superficial parts engrossed attention. Acting by 
this rule, you would be (according to a good old 
saying) just before you were generous ; truly chari- 
table before you allowed your wit to exercise its subtle 
fascinations ; prudent before you gave way to enter- 
prises only warranted by hope; — above all, you would 
be diligent in serving your Lord before you sought 



Hb MORNING CLOUDS. 

the pleasures intended for occasional refreshment 
and not for habitual pursuit. 

I may be accused of evading the real difficulty 
when I take for granted that there is always, or 
generally, in a young lady's choice of employments 
the distinctive stamp of even comparative import- 
ance ; when reading, music, drawing, gardening and 
the like are all equally possible, which can be called 
that which must or had better be done, to perform 
even a shadow of duty ? This none but the indivi- 
dual who asks can justly decide, for, as I shall never 
be weary of repeating, it is to the tastes, and means 
of cultivating these tastes which are given to us, 
that I believe we must look for the measure of our 
responsibility in non-essentials. 

But what may be considered a safer test is most ( 
commonly supplied by our circumstances, and the I 
affectionate cares they ought to impose : have not 
all, with a few pitiable exceptions, some whom it is 
their duty and delight to please? and cannot the 
wishes of parents, or a brother, or sister, sufficiently 
direct the indifferent mind to occupations which will 
increase its power of gratifying them ? It is surely 
one of the sweetest of women's minor duties to take 
a kindly interest in whatever interests home com- I 
panions ; and in taking the sketch suggested by a 



COMMAND OF THOUGHT. 97 

brother perhaps not often apt to notice such trifles ; 
in mastering the difficulties of a long duet, in which 
a sister may like to join ; in reading a book that 
would look repulsively dry except for the recom- 
mendation of a father's praise ; or in finishing the 
dull piece of work which it has fidgetted a notable 
mother to see so long at a stand- still — the satisfac- 
tion of fulfilled duty will be found, and the heart 
bear pleasant witness to the superior value of things 
done for the sake of others, compared to those which 
only please and occupy oneself. For the sake of 
others, if you have not found them indispensable to 
yourself, habits of punctuality must be established. 
Not only are they of use as a check upon the fatal 
growth of procrastination, — that vice which in- 
fatuates the mind with such potent soporifics that 
the lost opportunity of the day and the gradual ruin 
of a life are perceived with mere regret, and seldom 
rouse the will, — but they give to the mind rare 
powers of concentration, using it to complete change 
of employment, and to an entire withdrawal of 
attention fromxme when the time for another is 
come. 

This thorough command of the faculties is un- 
usual, and some will say impossible, in a womanly 
mind, because of the hundred little things that 

H 



98 MORNING CLOUDS. 

require to be thought of and seen to, by a woman, 
at a minute's notice. Those who have superintended 
a household know what wide-spreading and inces- 
sant vigilance is necessary, and how often trifling 
concerns will intersect each hour devoted to those of 
a seemingly higher character : it is for this very 
reason that I think it so needful for every woman to 
gain an ability for quick and complete transfer of 
thought, for fixed attention on every point to which 
she directs it, and resolute banishment of those half- 
thoughts about what has gone before which distract 
her in the prosecution of present business, and are 
fruitless with regard to what is past, having neither 
the calmness of reflection, nor the precision of re- 
solve. It is extremely difficult to prevent this run- 
ning back of the mind : let me advise, that whenever 
you detect yourself in wandering towards things 
previously despatched, while hands or eyes pursue 
other works, you come to a pause and deliberate, 
asking yourself " Was this work, this conversation, 
done and carried on to the best of my power at the 
time? — if it was not, in what way do I now see 
failure ? how can I learn from it, for future improve- 
ment?" And do not dismiss the question till you 
have satisfied yourself as to all its bearings upon your 
own conduct ; for this is reflection ; in thoughts like 



PUNCTUALITY. 99 

these true wisdom inay be ripened ; and after such 
thoughts you will pass on to present work with new 
vigour : but if you find, in looking back, no cause 
for the wholesome bitters of repentance ; if you would 
speak and act now, could the time recur, as you 
did then, surely you may leave it as indeed past. 
For what avails brooding over that which is now 
out of your reach, — calculating effects upon others, 
which you can never estimate aright, — reviewing 
what no longer belongs to you, while the minutes 
which run by your absent mind are wasted, because 
their purpose and possibilities are but half noticed ? 
If you will consider how much at the mercy of 
chance interruption a woman's life is likely to be, 
how probable it is that sickness and sorrow, either of 
her own or other people's, will occupy large portions 
of every year, and how exposed she is internally to 
the tyranny of feeling and imagination, you will 
allow that it behoves her to learn early the art of 
directing her thoughts wisely, and of controlling 
every one that seeks to take possession of her mind. 
Punctuality is a virtue which I think would be 
more esteemed, and more generally cherished, if it was 
borne in mind that it proves the strength of various 
good qualities, essential to a Christian life. Humility, 
rectitude, self-denial, kindness, and constancy to prin- 
H 2 



100 MORNING CLOUDS. 

ciples have been at work when punctuality is consist- 
ently practised ; when neither a servant nor a poor 
person is kept waiting beyond the appointed hour, 
because " it is only keeping them a few minutes 
longer ; " ■ — when the hour strikes which has been 
agreed upon for some social proceeding, and the 
individual, deeply interested in his or her occupation, 
instantly resigns it, because the time is not now for 
private use, but by right due to the purposes of 
another ; when a page is not turned after the time is 
come when any one else will be kept waiting ; 
when, rather than disappoint an expectant at a given 
time and place, personal convenience is cheerfully 
sacrificed; when, though no one waits, and no direct 
annoyance is likely to follow a longer indulgence of 
morning sleep or evening amusements, yet the time 
for rising and for going to bed is rarely altered, 
because a rule has been made which it is unadvisable 
needlessly to infringe. 

I do not think it is going too far to say that 
punctuality is a form of beneficence and self-dis- 
cipline which has more successful effects than many 
fresh-made systems that appeal to the love of self- 
devotion rather than to the sense of an obvious 
every-day duty : for heroic aspirations (in young 
hearts especially) are apt to lift us a little off that 



A CERTAIN MEANS OF DOING GOOD. 101 

common ground on which we must find both our 
work and our encouragement, if we hope to taste a 
woman's measure of earthly happiness. In early life 
we are so dissatisfied with men and women as we 
find them, that it seems easier then to do them good, 
and make the world a better one, by keeping out of 
mind what they, and it, really are, and by devising 
for their benefit plans of great elevation and beauty, 
but for the most part totally unsuited to human 
nature. Of course, this makes it peculiarly irksome 
to be an exact follower of all our associates' minute 
rules about time and place ; yet only try the experi- 
ment, dull as it seems ; spare your neighbour need- 
less temptations from the daily vexation of being 
kept waiting, even for ten minutes, uncertain of 
your regularity and impatient at being chafed by 
such tiny thwartings. Try, and you will find your 
presence has not only the sunshine of love, but also 
an invigorating re-assurance in its quiet influence : 
your virtue in this particular will be taken for 
granted when once recognised as a habit, but it will 
never lose its good effects. For my own part, I feel 
so strongly on this point, that any one who is habitu- 
ally unpunctual (unless in rare cases of extreme lan- 
guor, or tyrannical sloth) seems to me to treat the 
rest of the world with a disregard that is almost 

H 3 



102 MORNING CLOUDS. 

insolent : it seems a practical exposition of the feel- 
ing, " I shall not put myself out of my way ; I shall 
come when I am ready, and when I like." Perhaps 
men generally feel this, and we know that their 
important affairs and their strength of self-will (too 
frequently fostered by education to an inordinate 
degree) offer for them many an excusing plea; but 
when women have throned their selfishness and do 
it continual homage, we know not how to apologise 
for them, and they have the certainty of so much 
consequent unhappiness, that, except with a hope of 
rousing them from this paralysis of their best nature, 
one would be sorry to give them additional pain by 
the assurance that, in woman, such selfishness is 
frightfully out of place. 

From anything that has been said here, I hope no 
support will be gathered for that fidgetty narrow- 
minded observance of times which enslaves the free- 
will of some who are well-intentioned, and might be 
wiser. As those who speak highly of neatness do 
not mean by neatness a restless attention to the posi- 
tion of each class of things in a drawer — a constant 
restriction of each to the particular space allotted to 
it — but an unfailing principle of order and propriety, 
acting in all that is handled and arranged, and, like 
all other principles, adapting itself to all the peculi- 



PLIANCY OF WISE METHOD. 103 

arities of those things which it actuates, yet being 
constrained by none ; so by punctuality I mean 
method and exactness applied to time, with an 
enlightened largeness of view and minuteness of 
care. Such a principle will only extend our liberties 
by its apparent fetters ; without it we are subject to 
all the varying impulses of social and internal life, — to 
whim, caprice, mood, constitutional idleness — hard 
masters all! for either of these will deprive us of 
freedom more entirely than the strictest habits of 
punctuality. And yet with all my respect for this 
virtue, I allow that it may become a snare : as is the 
wont of human beings, we quickly forget the spirit 
of the means of good, and, losing sight of their object, 
blindly adhere to the means. 

Now, if I do not mistake, the spirit of punctuality 
is drawn from the chiefest graces of Christianity, and 
its object is the welfare of man, and the resulting 
honour to his Maker ; and if, as it sometimes happens, 
this object is more likely to be attained by a breach 
of the rules usually observed, — seeing they are but 
rules of conventional agreement, — it is no doubt more 
in accordance with their spirit to set them aside ; and 
this you must not neglect to do, from what is often 
only a foolish obstinacy. 

I will not slight your powers of mind by giving 

H 4 



104 MOKNING- CLOUDS. 

instances of what I mean — cases where this excep- 
tional untimeliness is as clear a duty as in times of 
illness, great distress of mind, and unavoidable inter- 
ruptions of daily routine. There are other occasions 
when it is fully as important to be planless, and yet 
not so generally recognised as home happiness re- 
quires. There is an unswerving tendency to drive 
on with usual and appointed works which must neu- 
tralise much of the o-ood it aims at, since it is 
powerful in alienating affections, without any of those 
definite disagreements which warn us when love is 
receding, and may yet be won back to its proper 
home. 

Beware of this. Beware of an air of pre-occupa- 
tion : your kindly attention, your gentlest sympathy, 
is as much the right of those you live with as the 
punctual appearance at the hour of dinner, walking, 
and family prayer, of which you would never wil- 
lingly defraud them. Which is it most likely they 
will prize? "Which is it most your duty to give? 
Surely these nameless modes of showing kindness 
are to be reckoned among the "weightier matters"* 
of spiritual religion of which our Saviour spoke 
when declaring that they were to be done, and 
those of less importance not to be left undone ? It 

* Matthew xxiii. 23. 



ECONOMY OF TIME. 105 

will be of great service for you to have a disengaged 
manner when others appeal to you; and yet this 
hospitality of heart may be carried too far: many 
feel the surrender of self- originated objects so agree- 
able and consonant, both to their pliant natures and 
to their standard of duty, that they gladly suffer their 
time to be at the disposal of any one but themselves. 
Do not let your precious fields be treated as if they were 
waste ground ; hedge them in from the constant depre- 
dations of habitual idlers by habitual industry, and 
by a quiet promptitude in going from one work to 
another ; for without these precautions you will at 
last be as helpless as the kind-hearted spendthrift ; 
you will have lavished your time on those who did 
not need it, and will have no longer the power of 
devoting it to those who do. It is wonderful how 
different is the amount of available time in the lives 
of those who have equal degrees of business : with the 
unfortunates who have not learned how to use time, 
there is generally an incessant outcry for leisure, and a 
very languid prosecution of the work that withholds 
it from them ; for anything not immediately required 
they hope to find time some day, when in truth no 
day ever comes in which we can find the time we 
have wasted in slackness of hand and feebleness of 
purpose, in fruitless talking or divided attention— the 



106 MORNING CLOUDS. 

habit of which will strengthen while the term of our 
years decreases, and the force, that might once have 
resisted it, declining, suffices for little more than the 
passion of regret. Oh, if we would have time for true 
life as well as for passive existence, for harvesting 
immortal fruits as well as for enduring transitory 
afflictions, we must win it ; we must devote each 
quick-minuted hour to some good end ; we must deny 
ourselves every vain expense of moments, and seek 
wisdom in their use from Him who knows how soon 
our probation may end. 

In considering this subject, we must not overlook 
things which frequently baffle every effort for bring- 
ing time into a definite shape : the many hours of 
social life when it is the complaint of those who suffer 
from them, " that no one knows what is going to be 
done," and yet all independent pursuits are suspended ; 
and the small affairs which arise unexpectedly in the 
course of most days, and throw out all calculations 
as to the length of time that should be given to them. 
For the first contingency, a woman's work-basket 
may generally prepare her ; if work is impossible, 
there will be exercise for good humour and patience, 
which may give spiritual value to the tedious 
interval. One can seldom be among our fellow- 
creatures without some opportunity of either receiv- 



LITTLE CARES. 107 

ing or doing good ; it may be less than a visible deed 
— a kind word or look, a hint worth taking, or even 
a silent unexpressed wish, — each, if pure in motive, 
"virtuous sap," which Coleridge tells us will be 
accounted as fruit. 

For those many little matters which seem to de- 
mand such a disproportionate allowance of time, you 
will need much prudential wisdom. Should you treat 
them with neglect, as things that can be done at any 
time, they may become giant annoyances, harassing 
you at every step with unforeseen consequences ; 
while, if they are dealt with as important items of 
the day's work, you are likely to contract a petty 
turn of thought, to be in ridiculous bondage to trifles. 
The truth is, that these trifles may at any moment 
become instruments of great effects, yet generally 
deserve their character of insignificance : — 

" Trifles light as air 
May prop, as you have known, our nobler being," * 

and an untidy, hasty despatch of trifling business, 
because it is trifling, has been often singularly re- 
venged in the nice adaptations of human fate to 
human folly. But by a thorough application of mind 
to the least details, we may always prepare them for 

* Wordsworth. 



108 MORNING CLOUDS. 

the possibilities of high service, without over forget- 
ting their due subordination in the order of things j 

and I believe we owe more e very-day comfort to 
foresight and thoroughness in trifles than to almost 
any habit one could name. 

If some who read this are more given to an in- 
ilamed diligence than to indolent habits, let them 
weigh all that is expressed by the old French pro- 
verb, " Qui trop embrasse, mal otreint." There is 
usually a degree of eovctousness in exeessive industry, 
whatever direction it takes, against which they 
should guard, and the more carefully that it steals 
into the heart under many a praiseworthy disguise, 
and is seldom suspected till it has made the temper 
impatient and all sympathies of short duration. 
When a woman has made herself a machine for get- 
ting through work, her highest powers o^ usefulness 
are in complete abeyance. 

The benefit of keeping diaries has been often con- 
tested, and a good deal has been fairly said for and 
against them ; I should not therefore presume to 
prescribe their use unconditionally. Daily records 
of emotion and thought seem to be dangerous on 
many accounts, but a regular journal of all that is 
done is, in my opinion, o( great service both for the 
year that passes and in retrospect. 



1UE MORBID CONSCIENCE. 100 



CHAP. VU. 

" Every action #e do is not in on immediate order to eternal 

blessings or infelicity, but yet mediately, and by consequence, 
and in the whole disposition of affairs, it adds great moments to 

it." — Jeremy Taylor. 

" What we should desire to do, the conscience alone will inform us, 
but how and when we are to make the attempt, and to what extent 
it is in our power to accomplish it, are questions for the judgment, 
and require an acquaintance v.-it.ij (acts and their bearings on each 
other. Thence the improvement of our judgment, and the increase 
of our knowledge on all subjects included within our sphere of 
action, are not merely advantages recommended by prudence, but 
absolute duties imposed on us by conscience," — Coleridge, Tfte 

Friend, vol. ii. p. 171. 

It is to the dictates of conscience that the disturbed 

mind will most confidently appeal; even when it socks 
to act contrary to reason and to the implied will of 
God: it is not possible that such contradiction should 
exist; and yet in some unhappy cases irreconcilable 
differences are apprehended, and conscience seems to 
forbid what reason commands and the Bible fully 
warrants. I trust this form of error is very rare; 
but if it gains ground in early life, the chances of 
complete cure are so small, and the results sometimes 
SO terrible, that I may be pardoned for endeavouring 



110 MORNING CLOUDS. 

to combat in its earliest stages what afterwards may 
prove unapproachable — a disease beyond the reach 
of human remedies or human sympathy, sadder 
than the tenderest pity can believe, and hopeless on 
this side of the grave. It may happen that one of 
my readers, in a time of disquiet and aimlessness, 
meets with a passage like this: "I feel much for 
young people ; they are constantly looking for hap- 
piness ; their hearts continually cry s give, give ! ' 
they must have an object, and they will be con- 
tinually changing one object for another till the con- 
solation of Israel becomes their consolation." These 
are true words of Cecil's, and they reach the heart, 
which echoes " That is just my case ! how vainly I 
have tried one plan after another, lifting up a 
new hope as soon as the last began to waver; 
listening to all sorts of advice about means of hap- 
piness ; wasting my life in things that do not profit. 
Could I but give myself wholly to the service of 
God, 1 might know peace." And can error lurk in 
thoughts like these ? Even so. This impulse to 
strive for more entire devotion is a thing to be very 
thankful for, but so sudden a contempt of the past 
condition of your soul is not always safe, for it is not 
always based on truth. Supposing that you have 
been religiously brought up, and serious in the re- 



GRADUAL ADVANCE IN PIETY. Ill 

newal and in the effort to perform baptismal vows, 
you have had this great and only sufficing object: 
that it has not been your full consolation does not 
necessarily prove that the heart has bent its longing 
only towards perishable goods ; too clear it is that 
it has gone astray continually, but not that it has lost 
sight of its true need. 

You are still young, and the peace that passeth 
understanding, which is indeed consolation, is the 
high reward of a mature piety : you may have it 
now in great measure, but I believe I shall not mis- 
lead you by asserting that it must often be eclipsed 
for awhile in the earlier periods of a Christian life. 
I would not chill one holy aspiration by pointing out 
(as bearing figuratively on the subject) St. Paul's 
expression, (i That was not first which is spiritual, 
but that which is natural, and afterward that which 
is spiritual ;" only I would have you very cautious of 
misjudging your eligibility for the spiritual character 
of the last from the strong development of what is 
peculiar to its predecessor. Kay, more, I would 
venture to anticipate riper proficiency in Christian 
virtues hereafter, from the slowness you now feel to 
claiui them as a present possession. 

I believe, with Coleridge, that it would be a sorry 
proof of humility were you to ask for <( angel's wings 



112 MORNING CLOUDS. 

to overfly your human nature ; " and this in fact you 
will do, if. before you have had time to know what the 
spirit within you is, you expect a complete conquest 
over it. There is a simplifying of difficulties in such a 
passage as the one just quoted particularly welcome 
to an uncertain mind ; it seems to proclaim silence to 
the many motives which are striving for mastery; it 
promises a direct path, a single and all-absorbing 
desire. Take it in its right sense, and these pro- 
mises will be fulfilled, for they are but a reminder of 
our Saviour's gracious words, ■* Come unto me,*' and 
" I will give you rest." But, believe me, you may 
foolishly misunderstand the merciful invitation if 
you think to follow Him more closely, to attain His 
offered rest more speedily by a precipitate abne- 
gation of all the lesser goods that human nature 
prompts you to seek, and Divine mercy delights to 
give. Those who can believe that religion requires 
this, forget surely that man's nature is of older date 
than its corruption. fe Nature" — said Jacob Behmen, 
for once speaking intelligibly to every mind — " Xa- 
ture is not come into man for the sake of sinne, 
w hy should it then fall away for the sake of the 
regeneration?" They must fail to observe the num- 
berless places in Holy Writ where sanction is given 
to its most common inclinations, while their undue 



SELF-DENIAL. 113 

gratification is as solemnly reproved, as that which 
is wholly forbidden. One would think they must 
imagine that they better understand the way which 
leads to our heavenly inheritance than He who has 
called us thither, since they seem to expect more 
growth in grace from a state of being rarely possible 
in earth, than from humble compliance with all the 
little cares, and little pleasures strewn so thickly in 
that state of life to which most of us are called. 
From many who entertain opinions of this kind, you 
will hear persuasive arguments of self-denial in the 
abstract ; and so much truth lies in all that may be 
said of its necessity and manifold good effects, that you 
may be led insensibly to attach an unsafe, because a 
disproportionate value, to this branch of duty and 
with the u soif immense de perfectionnement," " de 
morale, et de verite," proper to your age, you will 
be inclined to think it cannot be exercised too fre- 
quently. I venture to say that it can, and manifestly 
to the hindrance of other duties.* If the mysterious 
union of body and spirit, with all the complicated 
impulses that move it, was deprived of a free-will; 
if the perfect law of Christ was not a law of liberty; 
if the buried talent could satisfy the demands of our 

* " Good impulses and actions must hare their limits, in order 
that they may not impede other good impulses and actions." — 
La vater. 

I 



114 MORNING CLOUDS. 

Lord — then might we mfiiin our being, and trample 
out every natural instinct, to prove the sincerity of 
our faith, the entireness of our devotion ; but God 
forbid that reasonable creatures who oive thanks for 
redemption should think that with such sacrifice He 
is well pleased. 

Though we sin continually, and have ever cause 
to tremble before Him, as before a most just and 
holy judge, yet He is still our Maker, and to serve 
Him with a perverted nature, is only to dishonour 
His wisdom and slight His love. There is great 
probability that a young heart, when first impressed 
with the solemn interests of eternity, would think 
erroneously about self-denial; there is a just sense 
of the need of personal holiness, which no rejoicing 
in the sufficiency of the only Atonement can ob- 
scure ; but at the same time the ignorance of self is 
then so blinding, that its most dangerous tendencies 
are often overlooked, while some, innocent and ad- 
vantageous, are suspected and attacked with all the 
vehemence of unbalanced zeal. Perhaps none can 
know what are the absolute requirements of true 
religion, and how hard it is to do justice, and to love 
mercy, and to walk humbly with God, till many 
years of trial have revealed the secret wells of sin, 
the incurable plague of the heart ; and until then it 



DISPROPORTIONATE SCRUPLES. 115 

is very natural for a conscientious mind to impose 
upon itself harassing and unadvisable restrictions. 
And the danger of these is great, because of our 
liability to transfer notions of right and wrong from 
essentials to things of no comparative importance. 
It is too often notorious that the scruples which have 
withheld people from harmless actions, do not disturb 
them when a conscience rightly informed would give 
instant alarm. Many doubts as to whether it is 
right to indulge in a social amusement, have some- 
times appeared to deaden every perception of the 
real sinfulness of censorious judgments and peevish 
complaint; for we cannot habitually oppose the 
common sense of nature, without falling into grie- 
vous inconsistencies, and thereby causing unmerited 
suspicion to fall on the caution of true piety. 

As an example of the scruples to which I object, 
let me take those which touch upon mental pursuits : 
their engrossing interest, and the keen delight they 
give, may account for the fears of many as to their 
influence on spiritual life. Now no human being 
may dare to deny the danger of idolatry in any form 
recommending itself to the human heart ; and intel- 
lect has fascinations that can beguile and occupy it, 
filling all the scanty foreground of eternity with 
trifles, whose grave semblance can deceive, and 

i 2 



116 MORNING CLOUDS. 

almost simulate reflections of the " ligrlat of life : " 
thus leading step by step, over smooth ways, to the 
ruin of the spirit. Well aware of this, I am still 
persuaded that it is our bounden duty to cultivate 
every power of mind which we possess, to its utmost 
perfection ; I am convinced that reason and revela- 
tion alike warrant Dante's " Non stringer ma ral- 
larga ogni vigore ; " and I will give several reasons 
for this conviction, which may lack evident coherence, 
because I only choose the strongest among many on 
which it is grounded. It would try your patience 
too severely, if I urged in its defence all that expe- 
rience suggests. In the first place, it should be 
remembered that powers of mind and spirit are not 
so distinct as to allow us to weaken the one by dis- 
use, without doing injury to the other; the hours 
which day after day are devoted to careful reading 
on secular subjects may appear to you withdrawn 
from higher avocations, from prayer, and meditation, 
and religious reading, but be assured they will give 
a vigour and concentration of force to the spirit, 
which will materially helj) to advance it when en- 
gaged in more sublime exercise. While the secrets 
of antagonism* are unsuspected, it will hardly be be- 

* " Excellence of all kinds, physical, intellectual, and spiritual, is 
the product, not of the single operation of some one principle, but of 



HAKMONY OF MOTIVES. 117 

lieved how much devotion is quickened by an entire 
surrender of the mind to temporal business, in its 
due time and place ; and what proportion of time we 
should give to this, is, I think, intimated by the 
Fourth Commandment, which conveys to my appre- 
hension as clear an injunction to do all that we have 
to do, as to rest from doings on the appointed 
Sabbath, and keep it holy. I cannot express what 
I believe to be wisdom on this point, as well as I 
find it given in a sermon of Dr. Hook's, " on pro- 
moting the glory of God ;" from which I take the 
following passage: — " Man approximates to perfection 
in proportion as he acts in accordance with the con- 
stitution of his nature, not by counteracting his 
internal principles, or by vainly attempting to eradi- 
cate his appetite, affections, and desire, but by pre- 
serving their right proportion and mutual relations ; 
by bringing them into harmonious co-operation, and 
by reducing them all under the dominion of con- 
science, of reason, of revelation, and of grace. Man 
is a sensitive being, an intellectual being, a moral 
being ; by his senses, his reason, and his conscience, 
properly regulated, he is to be impelled to immediate 
action. Thus the very fact of our constitution im- 

the opposing forces of two or more powers, which have a natural 
fitness to counteract each other." — Isaac Taylor. 
i 3 



118 MORNING CLOUDS. 

plies the occasional and not unfrequent quiescence 
of our leading principle, since these motives would 
cease to exist, unless resting on their respective 
objects, as ends in themselves. The very nature of 
a motive power would be changed by the interposi- 
tion of some other object of contemplation besides 
that to which it immediately impels us." The whole 
sermon will be useful to any to whom the text, 
1 Corinthians, chap, x., verse 31., presents practical 
difficulties. Again, the suppression of intellectual 
tastes seems to me the proof of an erroneous notion, 
that grace is a substitute, more than an aid to powers 
originally given ; but as we call God's providence 
overruling, and yet find, with rare exceptions, an 
unbroken chain of natural cause and effect in all that 
befalls us, so I suppose the influence of the Holy 
Spirit is indeed prevailing and supernatural, and yet 
working in and by the faculties of man, — a supposi- 
tion which, in my opinion, consecrates every effort 
made to enlarge their scope. Another cause for 
these efforts, I find in the weapons thus supplied for 
purposes of social good, believing with South, not 
only that "Religion placed in a soul of exquisite 
knowledge and abilities, as in a castle, finds not only 
habitation, but defence," but also, as he says again, 
" Religion in a great measure stands or falls, accord- 



THE CHILLS OF REACTION. 119 

ins: to the abilities of those that assert it." It 
greatly concerns us, when devoting our hearts to the 
service of God, to avoid all ?/?znecessary separation 
from our fellow-men ; and I believe we should 
cherish all common interests, all innocent feelings 
that may give us the unalienable right of sympathy 
to speak boldly when obliged to differ on points of 
duty ; for if in taking a higher ground we forget or 
ignore the snares and impediments which beset those 
who cling to the world, there will be small pro- 
bability of our helping in any degree to raise the 
standard. 

But, alas ! how often from what seems higher 
ground, there are, in early life, declensions which 
endanger faith ! If you have known them by your 
own experience, you know that ardour of emotion 
may support you awhile under the hardships of 
self-imposed discipline ; that there may be a tem- 
porary peace within from entire resignation of all 
minor interests ; a sanguine zeal which would make 
the Christian's course a life-long triumph if it would 
last. Humanly speaking, it is impossible that it 
should ; the violent impetus exhausts itself ; there is 
an ebb-tide — a weariness of spirit — a dreaded sus- 
picion that the service of God does not involve 
the subversion of all that is natural to man ; and 

I 4 



120 MORNING CLOUDS. 

then follows a mistrustful dislike of all that has been 
associated with error. This is a time of peril, for 
it is invariably true, that " jeder Ueberspannung 
folgt fruher oder spater Erschlaffung," * and slumber 
after such over-excitement as this may be heavy 
from the additional narcotics of sin : a fatal languor 
may overcome you then. The subject is too solemn 
for mere advice; I would entreat any who feel them- 
selves in this crisis to persist in earnest prayer — not 
long, but frequent and unstudied prayer, not for 
the rekindling of devout raptures, but for wisdom, 
and humility, and the sound mind which can confess 
error, and seek to rectify it. I would also recom- 
mend a careful revision of all the simplest duties 
that religion prescribes, and an honest review of 
personal conduct with regard to them, particularly 
to the unalterable duty of thankfulness and re- 
joicing, too often lost sight of because it seems so 
easy, and likely to come of its own accord when 
others are performed, whereas few things are more 
neglected, even by sincere Christians. Even on 
these points I strongly advise you to limit your 
meditations to a given time ; this at an end, to dis- 



* Everything overstrained is sooner or later followed by relax- 
ation. — Zschokke. 



THE SOUL'S WINTER TIME. 121 

miss them utterly while you engage the mind in any 
business that will fully occupy it. For the time 
you are so far sick-hearted, that if you will be my 
patient you must submit to a strict regimen ; avoid 
much solitude, all books on religious subjects except 
the Bible, do everything you can in actively as- 
sisting other people, and take advantage of any 
possible change, either of society, or employment, or 
scene. Try also to cultivate a childlike pleasure in 
little things, and do not distress yourself because 
you now spend in drawing, or music, or idle 
wandering in the sunshine, time that a year ago 
you loved to pass in prayer and holy meditations. 
Do not think yourself exiled from the love of God 
because now the heart seems too cold and dead to 
respond to its never failing manifestations. Perhaps, 
in your present state, gratitude to Him can be 
better proved by meek submission than by frequent 
worship ; for it is not only by words that the 
spirit of man speaks to its Maker. By His bless- 
ing the prudential measures here proposed may be 
successful, and spiritual energies may gradually be 
re-inforced, and I believe that a purer and more 
calm piety is often rooted in those who patiently 
overlive the check which succeeds to morbid excite- 
ment. 



122 MORNING CLOUDS. 

There are cases still more pitiable than this just 
described, where there seems to be a life-long divorce 
of reason and conscience, — the one inciting to 
action, the other perpetually forbidding it, making- 
doubt to hang upon every word or deed, and a 
fearful weight of condemnation to attend every 
innocent impulse ; but this I imagine to be so 
clearly the result of disease, that argument then 
would be worse than wasted. While still health of 
mind remains to you, endeavour to fortify your 
reason and enlighten your conscience, for very 
terrible and mysterious are the penalties for neg- 
lectino- either obligation. You will find abundant 
opportunities for self-denial in the repression of sin 
— positive and indisputable — in thought, word, and 
deed ; but be slow, I beseech you, to fetter your- 
self with needless restraints, for in subjecting your- 
self to petty thwartings in things both lawful and 
expedient, you may incalculably weaken the repres- 
sive force of divine commands, while you sour the 
temper and grievously impair the judgment. It is, 
I suppose, instinctive in a creature mind to look 
upon forbidding measures as the best means of ame- 
lioration, repression being all the finite mind can 
secure ; only the Creator can oppose to evil a good 
impulse, can cause what he enjoins ; can make love 



ABRAHAM TUCKER'S ADVICE. 123 

to take the place of hate, hope of despondency, and 
the like : let us never trust to the negation of 
hurtful things as our main instrument of good, 
but be earnest in prayer for the quickening influ- 
ences of the Spirit. Of the many ways in which 
we must practise self-denial, few are "so important as 
the denial of that faithless sloth which makes us 
expect little, ask faintly, and with a divided mind. 

By the number of my quotations, you may have 
detected that I felt wholly unequal to the momen- 
tous subject of this chapter,- and that I was longing 
to throw the responsibility of counsel upon those 
who could give it with more authoritative wisdom : 
it is for this reason that I add several passages likely 
to touch minds unsettled by scruples, with a ser- 
viceable plainness of speech. As they are taken 
from a book which probably few women would care 
to read through, I give them at length, and not 
only by references to chapter and page, from Abra- 
ham Tucker's * Light of Nature pursued." 

The facility of skipping them will occur to all 
whom they do not concern, while they deserve the 
serious attention of those whom they, in any de- 
gree, interest. 

"A right faith is compatible with the common 
business and transactions of life, therefore it is a 



124 MORNING CLOUDS. 

spurious piety that makes men desirous to lay out 
their whole time in exercises of devotion. Who- 
ever possesses just notions of God, must believe 
He orders all things in perfect wisdom : since, then, 
He in His providence has placed us in a situation 
that renders an attention necessary to our bodily 
wants, our worldly concerns, the conveniences and 
even the pleasures of our fellow-creatures, we may 
show our obedience in performing these little offices 
with innocence and propriety, as well as the higher 
duties and acts of religion. For we are servants, 
whose business it is to fulfil the task before us ; we 
must not expect always to be employed in attendance 
upon our Master's person, nor ought we to esteem 
any work unprofitable or trifling which the circum- 
stances we are placed in require us to execute." 
"For our activity will never be useless to us if 
rightly applied, even in the smallest matters when 
nothing better is within our reach; and as men 
shall give account for every idle (that is, every in- 
temperate word or thought), so every right action, 
word or thought, however trivial, yet if best suited 
to the present occasion, shall be placed to the credit 
of their account. Hence we may gather a constant 
self-satisfaction in all our motions, our very recrea- 
tions will afford a sincere delight ; our worldly 



IMPRACTICABLE NOTIONR 125 

professions, oui' worldly cares, the daily transactions 
of life, will not appear loss ot time, nor avocations 
at variance with our principal work. For the same 
God. being Maker of all worlds visible and invisible. 
has constructed each in every particular, so as to 
answer the purposes of the rest, therefore we are to 
esteem nothing trivial and unavailing that befalls in 
His laws of nature and courses of providence : and 
may believe that every right action which the 
present occasion calls for, is the work we are 
called upon of God to perform : and though it does 
not make so large strides as arduous exercises of 
virtue, yet advances us something forward towards 
our final goal.'' *****•• Despondencies of this 
kind are often owing to the indiscretion of teachers, 
"--: insist too strenuously upon higher perfections 
of virtue than human nature can attain, and are 
found to prevail most upon women, or persons of 
small ability, and in their contemplative hours more 
in seasons of action. For the consolation of 
such persons let it be observed, that righteousness 
does not consist in the quantity of good we do, 
but in our doing so much, be it little or be it much, 
as lies in our power. There are pegs and pins in 
a building as well as beams and columns, nor can 
we cbubt that God distributes to every man the 



126 MORNING CLOUDS. 

talents suited to the task he is to perform ; therefore 
if we attend only to family affairs, or making broth 
for the sick, provided this be all we have ability to 
do, we have completed our part. Let it next be 
remarked, that our imagination does not lie under 
our absolute command to raise ideas there, in what 
strength or vividness of colour we please ; the poet 
cannot always fill himself with inspiration, nor the 
philosopher with his clear discernment of truth, nor 
the religious man with his ardours and transports ; 
therefore the want of a fervent faith and slowing 
zeal is not so much the mark of reprobation as of a 
present indisposition of the organs. Let it further 
be remarked, that notwithstanding what may have 
been inculcated of a constant attention to the duties 
of religion, our business lies chiefly in action, and 
the common duties of life ; so that when per- 
plexities overcloud us, instead of foreboding melan- 
choly omens from the gloom they cast, we should 
rather take them as admonitions that it is not now 
the season to puzzle our brains with thinking, but 
to bestir ourselves in some active employment, or 
pursue some innocent recreation, which may supply 
us with a glow of spirits for reason to work with to 
better purpose afterwards. For if fear and trem- 
bling be a duty, a becoming confidence and just 



FKRLXKGfl HEGSSSAKM VARIABLE, 127 

repose in the Divine Goodness is a duty likewise : - 
nor is fortitude less a virtue than prudence, and the 
proper province of both is ascertained by their 
usefulnr—. Therefore, when anxieties arise, it be- 
hoves us to consider what purpose they may an- 
swer; while they serve to keep us vigilant and 
spur on our activity in helping ourselves, we do 
well to encourage them, but when they tend to no 
good, nor urge us to anything we should not have 
done as well without them, we cannot do better 
than turn our face from them, and use any expe- 
dient at hand to banish them out of our thoughts,' 5 
***** "But let us not suffer the desire of 
holiness to carry us beyond the bounds of dis- 
cretion, nor mislead us in judging wherein i:= es- 
sence consists. — an error that men of no small 
credit among the multitude have fallen into. For 
they, observing justly that study, meditation, p: 
thanksgiving, and the externals of religion, are the 
main supports of holiness, place the whole of it in 
them; so they would have men think of nothing 
else, but employ every day and every hour in a 
continual round of these exercises. Whereas holi- 

loes not consist in them, but in the disposition 
of mind to be contracted by them, which disposition 

rter forwarded by the life and spirit of our 



128 MORNING CLOUDS. 

devotions, than by the length and frequency of 
them. For it is not in human nature to keep up a 
glow of fervency further than to a certain period, 
according to the strength and condition of our organs, 
all beyond is perfunctory and unavailing form, no 
more a nourishment of the mind, than eating beyond 
one's appetite is to the nourishment of the body. 
Besides that, the practice of a rational and useful 
life is equally, if not more necessary to strengthen 
our sentiments, for obedience is better than sacrifice, 
and infixes the principle whereon it was performed 
deeper than any mental efforts can do. Nor would 
it be more absurd for a soldier to desert his post 
that he may lie lurking about his general's tent, lest 
he should lose sight of his reverence, than for us to 
neglect our active duties, that we may attend more 
closely to those of devotion." 

" We have offered reasons to make it probable that 
the blessed spirits above do not spend their whole 
time in Hallelujahs, but are continually employed on 
high behests, to assist in administering the courses 
of nature and fortune. And God has placed us 
under a necessity of attending to servile objects 
for the support and convenience of ourselves and 
our fellow-creatures. Let us then, in all our 
measures, have a respect to their use, and practise 



WORK IN WHICH ALL CAN JOIN. 129 

religious exercises so far as they tend to give us a 
happy turn of mind, dependent on Providence, 
contented with its dispensations, and pleased with 
being under its protection, and make us industrious 
within our narrow sphere of action to maintain the 
order and promote the happiness of the world where- 
with we stand connected." * 

* Tucker's " Light of Nature pursued." 



130 MORNING CLOUDS. 



CHAP. VIIL 

" But the clear soul, by virtue purified, 
Collecting her own strength, from the foul steam 
Of earthly life, is often dignified 
With that pure pleasure, that from God doth stream: 
Often 's enlightened by the radiant beam 
That issues forth from His Divinity; 
Then feelingly immortal she doth deem 
Herself, conjoin'd by so near unity 
With God, and nothing doubts of her eternity." 

Henry More. 

It must ever be remembered that no system, however 
wise, no degree of piety, no favourable circumstances, 
can secure to us continual happiness on earth ; and 
it will be well to examine deliberately those suffering 
conditions of life which most frequently embitter 
it. I will name ill-health first, both because it is 
so often inevitable, and because you will sometimes 
hear it said that without health, happiness is scarcely 
possible. The happiness most open to human notice, 
and most dearly prized by human nature, is indeed 
impossible when weakness and pain are to be borne 
day after day, through lifelong sickliness ; yet I 



SUPREMACY OF THE MIND. 131 

am sure more may be done than is often attempted 
to make a painful state of body not only calm, but 
bright with a spiritual triumph. While oppressed 
by the dispiriting influences of sickness, its languors, 
and disgusts, and humiliations, it is difficult to believe 
in the spirit's real independence of the body, or rather 
its separation from the evils which afflict its earthly 
associate. But listen to the serene conclusion of 
Bishop Butler on this subject: " These systems of 
matter not being ourselves," * * * " the relation a 
person bears to those parts of his body to which he 
is most nearly related, what does it amount to but 
this, that the living agent and those parts of the body 
mutually affect each other?" "And the same thing 
in kind, though not in degree, may be said of all 
foreign matter which gives us ideas, and which we 
have any power over."* 

You will perhaps say that when Butler made this 
statement, he was free from headache, toothache, or 
any unremitting pain, and object that over it we have 
no power : none for its removal, but for neutralising 
its effects upon the mind, you know not how much. 

Of the influence of the body upon the mind we 
are constantly hearing ; we need to be reminded of 

* Butler's " Analogy," part I. chap. i. 
k 2 



132 MORNING CLOUDS. 

the influence of the spirit upon the body ; not so 
evident, perhaps, nor so common, but incontestable ; 
cases not unfrequently occur in which the weakest 
frame appears to borrow a surprising accession of 
vigour from the indomitable strength of its undying 
companion : and if by degrees suffering saps the 
force of the mind, it is no less a fact that its 
energy often seems to support and prolong the 
trembling life of the body, carrying it through 
dangers which threatened immediate dissolution. In 
calm moments this supremacy of the spirit may not 
be disputed, but the temptation to doubt, or to 
forget it, is sorely pressed upon a weary soul to 
whom all external things come through a darkened 
and distorting medium : overwhelmed with the 
mournful consequences of disease, it is ready to lift 
up a reproach to heaven, to cry out in bitterness, 
" Thine hands have made me and fashioned me 
together round about ; yet thou dost destroy me." * 
Full of anguish, " anguish of all sizes," is the 
process by which our clay houses are undermined 
and brought to ruin ; and sometimes mental power 
gives us a keener appreciation of bodily ills : we sigh 
with an ever growing perception of the enormous 

* Job x. v. s. 



TRUST IN THE ALMIGHTY. 133 

disadvantages (for this life) under which the deformed 
or disabled body labours ; seeing the loveliness of 
health, the perfect adaptation of the symetrical and 
vigorous body to all the needs and blessings of tem- 
poral existence, and the mind returning to consider 
its own uneasy tenement, its own incapacity and 
deprivation, feels sometimes a shrinking from its 
doom that amounts to horror, if submission to the 
will of God is not habitual, and to melancholy diffi- 
dence even when prolonged trial, meekly borne, has 
elicited the heartfelt " It i3 well " of assured faith. 
It is well. It is the Lord's doing that disease remains 
unchecked by all our care, and all the skill of human 
physicians. But for His willing it not to be, you 
who now pine away from year to year, sick in body 
and sinking in strength, might be giving Him glad 
praise for healing every infirmity, for enabling you 
to serve Him with new powers. Do not forget that 
any moment this might be, if the purposes for which 
you are thus chastened were answered, Beyond 
cherishing this comfortable conviction, and patiently 
using all the remedies prudence and science can 
suggest, we have nothing to do with what might be ; 
what is, whether woe or healing, is our concern ; and 
I entreat any whose heart and strength fail in the 
slow fires of disease, to believe that to them, as well 



134 



MORNING CLOUDS. 



as to happier seeming mortals, the (< Fear not," 
" Be of good cheer," " Rejoice in the Lord," of 
Scripture are equally applicable. "We are never told 
in the Bible to do or to feel what is impossible, and 
though affliction cannot but be grievous, our duty 
remains the same ; we must still rejoice in the 
Lord. 

The poison of death that riots in flesh and blood 
will cruelly affect the imprisoned spirit, and we are 
not to blame ourselves too severely if it often 
darkens hope and chills good feeling ; but by God's 
grace we may be more than conquerors over this and 
all other opposition of evil, so long as He allows us 
the exercise of reason. 

These strokes of a Father's rod are not only penal, 
but curative ; we have therefore good cause to re- 
joice, to suffer with a resignation almost as exulting 
as the gratitude felt for evident blessings. Let the 
love of God, as well as His promises, " be accounted 
most assured to thee, and though thy heart saith 
clearly no, yet be not thou dissuaded from it." * 

Every human body is sown in dishonour, and who 
can feel the depths of its earthly dishonour as those 
do whose bodies are for life representatives of pain 
and feebleness ? 

* Jacob Behmen. 



INFIRMITY THE TEST OF FAITH. 135 

But because this stage of corporeal being comes 
first, and seems now so long in passing, shall we 
forget how transient it is compared to that other 
to which it will be raised in power? Now, it 
may be, the perfection of the natural world around 
us smites the heart with a miserable sense of con- 
trast, and even a little bird singing on a branch 
flooded with evening sunshine, may appear, from 
your weary bed, to enjoy superior blessings ; but do 
not you see on reflection that your present degrada- 
tion, your helpless servitude to the infirmity of the 
flesh, is the very means by which the sublime force 
of your spirit — your true self — is to be manifested? 
And can you want higher encouragement than the 
hope that your sickness also may be for the glory of 
God? 

For practical advice under this severe trial you 
will be at no loss : one who drank deep of the mys- 
terious cup of pain, has left us, in her most consoling 
book upon Sickness *, a valuable compendium of all 
that can, I think, be said about it. In reading this 
admirable book, I feel that the writer had sought 
and obtained success in the art of consolation from 
the God of all comfort, and I know that she could 

* " Sickness, its Trials and Blessings," published by Francis and 
John Rivington. London. 

K 4 



136 MORNING CLOUDS. 

speak of Him from experience in St. Paul's words, 
as of the God " who comforteth us in all our tribu- 
lation, that we may be able to comfort them which 
are in any trouble by the comfort wherewith we 
ourselves are comforted of God." 

The sufferer from positive illness has perhaps no 
such need of firm patience as the ever-ailing invalid, 
— always well enougli to encounter the little storms 
of common life, and seldom sufficiently strong to get 
through one day without a depressing sense of being 
unequal to both its troubles and its pleasures. With 
such patients life drags on heavily, and it must be a 
brave spirit that does not often feel faint-hearted, 
when anticipating a repetition of the same efforts, 
the same languid enjoyments throughout the rest of 
its earthly course : others can think of the future 
with joy, or hope, or vivid fear; for the weakly the 
present is often too full of difficulties to allow their 
hearts any horizon more distant than the much 
needed repose of night. And, as is often the case, 
human pity is apt to fail as people become more 
and more pitiable ; it naturally becomes more of an 
habitual formula of past, than a tender proof of pre- 
sent feeling, and all around get so used to our weak- 
ness that they are half inclined to wonder that we 
seem suddenly dejected by it now and then. But 



INEXHAUSTIBLE COMFORT. 137 

while we creep through these monotonous trials we 
will remember that it is not so with Him who made 
us. He knows how much more crushing is the 
trifling pain of to-day which reminds us of having 
endured the same years ago (when it was new, and 
the pity it excited fresh) and which promises to be 
still with us, if we live ten or twenty years longer, 
than the sharper seizure for which there is speedy 
remedy. Let us think of His unabating pity ; His 
merciful listening to our weary sighs, and like the 
Israelites when they heard that the Lord had looked 
on their affliction, we shall bow our heads, and 
worship with softened grief and deeper humility, 



138 MORNING CLOUDS. 



CHAP. IX. 

Every present holds a future in it, 
Could we read its bosom secret right; 
Could we see the golden clue and win it, 
Lay our hand to work with heart and might. 



Each single struggle hath its far vibration, 
Working results that work results again; 
Failure and death are no annihilation, 
Our tears absorbed will make some future rain. 

Let us toil on ; the work we leave behind us, 
Though incomplete, God's hand will yet embalm, 
And use it some way: and the news will find us 
In Heaven above in sweet and endless calm." — Anon. 

From " Household Words." 

Among things that seem to annihilate happiness I 
have put illness of body before dejection of spirit, 
only because it is commonly a more lasting evil, and 
the cause of many different kinds of distress ; but 
when bodily ailments are not attended by any great 
indisposition of mind, they are beyond comparison 
less grievous than what we call, for want of a better 
name, low spirits. And is any kind of low spirits 
so utterly miserable as that which frequently settles 



LIFE WITHOUT MOVEMENT. 139 

upon the young and eager heart, with a dull weight 

of languor ? making it feel, 

" Sans regrets, sans espoir, avancer dans la vie, 
Comme un vaisseau qui dort, sur une onde assoupie, 
Sentir son ame usee en impuissant effort, 
Se ronger lentement sous la souille du sort ; 
Penser sans decouvrir, aspirer sans atteindre, 
Briller sans eclairer, et palir sans s'eteindre." — Jocelyn. 

With the sad conviction, 

" Helas ! tel est mon sort et celui des humains, 
Nos peres ont passes par les meraes cheniins." 

Yes ! and have uttered in many languages the same 

mournful cry of hearts, drooping at the entrance of 

their worldly career, hungering for they know not 

what ; longing for death, because the life within and 

without seemed stagnation.* Believe me, many can 

say, 

" Io conducea 1' Aprile 
Degli anni miei cosi." 

Many think of it as a " dreadful past." You will 

* " Kecht instinctartig lechzt' ich nach anderer Luft und Umge- 
bung; nach gewaltsamer Bewegung und Zerstreuung. Das todte 
Einerlei der Lage druckte mich zu Boden. 

" Ich hatte aus mir selber herausfliegen mogen, lebensatt. Doch 
war das nur ein dunkles dumpfes Sehnen und Sucben; ich verstand 
mich selbst nicht." — Zschokke's " Selbstschau." 

Instinctively I languished for another atmosphere and neighbour- 
hood ; for more powerful impulse and distractions. The dead uni- 
formity of circumstances pressed me to the ground. I would fain 
have fled out of myself, life weary, yet it was only an obscure, dull, 
longing and passion ; I did not understand myself. 



J 40 MORNING CLOUDS. 

have no want of human sympathy here ; sympathy 
in the abstract, and a few years hence ; present com- 
plaints may oftener be met with surprise, friendly 
rebuke for discontent, and the like ; for the life 
which appears to you so lifeless has often quite 
another aspect to those who have lived longer. 

In this instance, as in almost every other, we must 
slay our own giants, before our struggles are even 
suspected; we must wrestle with them quite un- 
assisted by man, and with no witness of our valour 
but the God who will abundantly reward it. Let us 
try and take the measure of this " Giant Despair." 
I have bent under the numbing force of his con- 
tinuous blows; I have wept hopelessly, believing 
myself his captive for life, and I have been gradually 
released from his fetters. May God give me power to 
loosen some of those which bind you ! 

And first a word to any one w T ho may be inclined 
by happier experience to think these expressions 
exaggerated ; be thankful if you can think them so, 
for if you do so sincerely, it proves a most blessed 
ignorance of this form of suffering ; but lest igno- 
rance should make you presumptuous in judgment, 
know as a fact that very many have spent weeks and 
months in such abject poverty of joy and interest, 
that they have been tempted to say, with the hero 



DESTITUTION. 141 

of Joseph Downes, in his simpler and more visible 
poverty, 

" Hail every spirit-stirring curse, 
The arousing hurricanes of Breath, 
Before this pestilent stagnation — 
This creeping of destruction — worse 
Than Ruin's worst wild desolation ! " 

The Proud Shepherd's Tragedy. 

So entirely has the mind become unnaturalised by 
habitual joy fulness, that a gloomy pleasure has actu- 
ally been felt in anticipating the saddest means of 
change, such as a wide spreading epidemic, loss of 
sight, or limb. Too well had Downes learned this 
dismal page in human nature, and though the want 
he speaks of is want in its most common form, what 
he says is no less true of the want of the spirit : 

" Who cries, ' Good Lord deliver us!' 
From those — to want delivered up 
Already — (those that are to this 
But as Life's darker extasics !)." 

Alas! where life is a " vapid cup" it is sometimes 
(e worse than bitter." 

But to such as are now ready to call it so, — one 
of those " swift souls that yearn for light," who seem 
destined to be " buried in the tomb of sluggish cir- 
cumstances," — I answer, your misery is curable, and 
though I can honestly affirm that there is no exag- 
geration in my description of what may thus be 



142 MORNING CLOUDS. 

suffered, I am as sure, that in these sufferings there 
is great exaggeration of what need be borne. The 
sickly soul finds sorrow where none need be, and life 
must be accepted on terms quite different from those 
which young people expect. The 

" Longing a healthy heart hath in it. 
To feel intensely Life's each minute," * 

is natural at your age, but out of all proportion with 
what this life can do to satisfy it, for strong emotions 
and vivid enjoyments are not ever of every day 
occurrence. The greatest part of most lives must 
be passed in unimpressive routine, in occupations 
often flat and dull enough for the pitying notice of 
those who live in pursuit of excitement, yet not 
necessarily unhappy or profitless. When " the 
humour of being prodigiously delighted has once 
taken hold of the imagination," says Paley, " it 
hinders us from providing for or acquiescing in those 
gently soothing engagements, the due variety and 
succession of which are the only things that supply 
a vein or continued stream of happiness." Perhaps 
you will answer that it is not dulness of occupation 
that you complain of, nor the want of exciting plea- 
sures, but that your whole being craves the natural 
refreshment of society : that in the airless confine- 
ment of a secluded life your best faculties languish 

* J. Downes. 



THE PATIENCE OF POWERFUL MINDS. 143 

for want of exercise ; that your life is as a buried plant, 
blanched and feeble for want of common sunshine. 

Alas ! the want of it is common too. Many noble 
minds have mourned for the scope they were deprived 
of by seclusion, and suffered acutely from the depri- 
vation ! But the noblest, with " a wise and industrious 
suffering, which draweth and contriveth use and ad- 
vantage out of that which seemeth adverse or con- 
trary,"* have reconciled themselves to temporary 
inaction, as the means God has chosen for their per- 
fecting, and with the hope of "long eternity" before 
them, have ceased to chafe at a few years' seeming 
lethargy : seeming only, for in all circumstances, 
however repressive, some spiritual progress is open to 
us. But perhaps such calmness of faith cannot be 
attained while the measure of our powers is still 
unknown, and our position with regard to our fellow- 
creatures untried. 

There is then a restless thirst for action which the 
regular succession of petty events in an unvaried 
circle cannot appease, and an employment or range 
of circumstances that contents us well enough for a 
time, takes suddenly an oppressive and disgusting 
appearance when presented to the imagination as what 
will have unlimited continuance. Much of our im- 
patience at such a prospect arises from the belief that 

* Bacon, 



144 MORNING CLOUDS. 

our own vitality is being gradually diminished by the 
cold apathetic atmosphere in which we fret away the 
burdensome hours of unprized existence : a mistake, 
as it is a condition which at an early age concentrates 
and intensifies every peculiarity of individual cha- 
racter.* You have more reason to fear a habit 
of antagonism, than any that could assimilate your 
feelings to surrounding stupor. 

Do you ask why are other minds so contented with 
it ? Because circumstances which you now think 
intolerably dull, may be in after life, when the heart 
is tamed, a source of sincerest gratitude ; but when 
I say this, I give to yours a new contribution of 
melancholy, making it, as you say, a condition of con- 
tentment to be tamed down, to be dulled and broken, 
till dulness and hopelessness are the only elements in 
which we can exist. There is some truth in this as- 
sertion, and you cannot yet see all that will neutralise 
its painfulness ; when you have known the storms of 

* " In Tiefen unberuhret 

Wachst einsam das Metall; 
Wo's nachtet und gefrieret, 
Sich bildet der Kry stall." — J. Kerner, 

In undisturbed depths below 
To massive weight the metals grow; 
In realms of darkness and of cold, 
The crystal takes its perfect mould. 



APOLOGY FOE RESIGNATION. 145 

n. the rack of perplexity while a life of wretch- 
edness or of peace depends on your own decision, or 
some of the myriad forms of sorrow that invade nearly 
: Id with which you are familiar : then. 
and not till then you will understand that being 
tamed is not a lowering | n 3ess 3 though it quiets the 
pulse, nor a sad result though it makes strong earthly 
hope appear a childish toy, but a firm and peaceful 
conviction that a life of probation must often be one 
of suffering, active or passive : that long intervals of 
time unmarked by external colouring are the inevi: 
portion of all. and that in all the wearinesses, conflicts, 

pangs allotted to us here, is ■ the life of the 
spirit/' If you believe this now by faith, will you 
allow you:-::'.: :: : : overpowered by the dealness of 
outer life ? You are tempted to loathe even its least 
details, to regard the chairs and tables and walls : a 
which your listless eye gazes so long, as fellow con- 
spirators with fate, as the furniture of a prison ■ you 
are perhaps sunken so low that to sit over the fire 
hugging hands or knees, or to find in the hours for 
eating a pleasurable distraction, is the most lively 
enjoyment of your day. Can you in this deplorable 

of mind, heartily thank God for your creation ? 
You , while you feel a detached, aimless, baffled 

creature. The remembrance of the many dreamy 

L 



146 MORNING CLOUDS. 

hours I have passed, gazing vacantly at unmoving 
fields of gray cloud, my own thoughts all as lightless 
and vague ; and of the sickening with which I have 
turned from the unanswering sky to an earth which 
seemed even more barren and joyless than it, urges 
me to rouse you if possible from this torpor, to excite 
you to find what is your aim *, your unalienable in- 
heritance of natural ability. 

However much you may be shackled by external 
hindrances, in your own nature you may still find 
resource ; to nearly all of us powers are given, in the 

* " Derjenige, weleher keine Beschiiftigung hat, der er sich mit 
treuem Eifer hingibt, Der, welcher diese nicht so wie sich selbst und 
alle Menschen liebt, der hat den sichern Grund nicht gefunden auf 
dem das Christenthum auch hier Fruchte hervorbringt. Eine solche 
Beschaftigung wird zu einem stillen Tempel eingeweiht, in welchen 
der Heiland in jeder Stunde der Miihseligkeit seinen Segen ergiesst ; 
sie verbindet uns mit alien andern Menschen, so dass wir an ihren 
Gefuhlen Theil nehmen, und all unser Thun und Lassen zu 
ihrem Nutzen wirksam werden kann; sie lehrt uns unsern eignen 
beschrankten Zustand und der Werth Anderer richtig erwagen, und 
ist des wirksamen Christenthums wahrer, stiller, und frucht-tragender 
Grund."— Steffen. 

He who has no occupation to which he gives himself with tree 
zeal, he who does not love this as he loves himself and his fellow 
men, has not found the sure ground on which Christianity brings 
forth fruit even here. Such an occupation becomes consecrated as 
a quiet temple in which the Saviour, during every hour of toil, pours 
out His blessing ; it unites us with all other men, so that we can 
share their feelings, and make all our conduct efficient for their 
good ; it teaches us rightly to consider our own limited condition 
and the value of others, and is the true, calm, and fruitful basis of 
active Christianity. 



UXTHAXKFULNESS. 147 

healthy development of which the most unfortunately 
circumstanced would find an object and a joy. 
" Each man has his own vocation. The talent is the 
call. There is one direction in which all space is 
open to him — he has faculties silently inviting him 
thither to endless exertion. He is like a ship in a 
river — he runs against obstructions on every side 
but one ; on that side all obstruction is taken away, 
and he sweeps serenely over a deepening channel 
into an infinite sea."* This is equally true with 
regard to the especial vocation of women, though 
it is often of an order too humble for general 
recognition. 

But it may be that your dejection is more from 
slothfulness than from actual discontent, for we are 
often unhappy and desponding more because we do 
not take the trouble to feel otherwise than from any 
real sorrow ; and because we allow the little annoy- 
ances we must ever meet with to outweigh the 
mercies that encompass us every moment. In this, 
as in many other cases, the predominant thought is 
a magnet which arranges all other thoughts around 
itself, imparting to them its influence, and seizing 
those facts with which it has affinity, to the rejection 
of those with which it has none ; thus, thinking our- 

* Emerson. 
L 2 



148 MORNING CLOUDS. 

selves miserable, we continually draw together more 
and more proofs of unhappiness; whereas, if we 
would but think ourselves what we truly are, greatly 
blessed by an Almighty Father, who loves us more 
than we can conceive, we should find, even in our 
saddest days, more proofs of His pity and tender 
ca'.e than of His just and severe chastisement. 
Nothing proves the blindness of our ingratitude 
more than the differing estimates we make of the 
same daily blessings: one day of comparative peace 
often follows another, with a succession of mild plea- 
sures and painless duties; but do we habitually feel 
these times to be blessed ? In our thanksgivings we 
call them so. What is the voice of the heart ? Too 
frequently dissatisfaction. " None of these things 
satisfy."* They were not intended to satisfy. Yet 
how is it that if any change comes — if sickness, 
absence, or misunderstandings with companions, or 



* " That unsatisfiedness with transitory fruitions, that men deplore 
as the unhappiness of their nature, is indeed the privilege of it, as it 
is the prerogative of men not to care for or be capable of being 
pleased with toys such as children dote on, and make the sole objects 
of their desires and joys. And by this you may in some degree 
imagine the unimaginable suavity that the fixing of one's love on 
God is able to bless the soul with, since, by so indulgent a father 
and competent judge as God himself, the decreed uncontentingness 
of all other goods is thought richly repaired by its being an aptness 
to prove a rise to our love's settling there." — Robert Boyle. 



VAKYING ESTIMATE OF COMMON BLESSINGS. 149 

fear of losing them, puts common mercies at a little 
distance from us — that then they seem delicious ; 
then we recognise them as mercies, and feelingly call 
what seems lost, happiness ? When the heart is full 
of grieving imaginations, or shaken by a sudden 
storm of passion, the most trifling externals wear a 
strangely new aspect : two or three little birds hop- 
ping about a hayfield on their quiet errands of 
instinct will then excite a remorseful longing for the 
peaceful past ; will look like alienated friends of a 
happier period. What various meanings do we at 
such times impute to the slow procession of clouds, 
and the flutter of wind-stirred trees ! These have 
then the air of superiors, — their undisturbed course, 
contrasted with our many jarring movements, 
making us feel as if man was a pitiable fugitive 
among creatures more wise and serene than he. 
Have we not enough of reason to correct our ten- 
dency to turn from the present, though its many 
riches are now in our possession, and to stretch either 
towards an irrecoverable past, or towards a future 
whose accompaniments we cannot foresee ? Satisfied 
with the happiness of any earthly present we cannot 
rightly be ; but to be thankful for what is now given, 
and wise to perceive its peculiar advantages, is an 
* 3 



150 MORNING CLOUDS. 

attitude of mind which duty requires, and which 
gives us the best chance of moderate and enduring 
happiness. 

I do not profess to believe that the attainment of 
this is always in our power ; the mysterious dealings 
of God with man forbid so great an error ; and I 
can too well imagine that, in a few instances, the 
most sincere and humble inquirer for the advantages 
of the present will be unable to find any that are not 
dependent on the working of faith and patience. 
But patience is the only work which we are sure 
may be perfect, even here : and if you give yourself 
to this work, your soul will be too much ennobled 
for torpor. And I would caution you who may be 
called to this work, not to expect, from all you read 
and hear of the vivifying effects of sorrow, that you 
will certainly feel them during the worst part of your 
trial. There is, during long periods of monotonous 
affliction, an apparent consuming of spiritual life. 

In some lives the tedium of existence may last 
for years, with rare breaks, and may seem almost 
insupportable. In utter prostration of soul you may 
cry out, w It is better to die than to live ; " and I 
warn you there may seem to be no answer to this 
cry — no interposition of speedy deliverance — all 
may appear unaltered; yet do not doubt that your 



MORTIFICATION THAT QUICKENS. 151 

bitter cry was heard, and that if humble supplication 
has been made to God, it will be answered, and the 
answer will be gracious, and abundantly prove the 
mercy which suffered the soul to hunger and faint in 
desert ways. Oh ! though it tarry long, wait for it ; 
and, compared to the peace that is to follow, this 
long time of trouble will seem as but for a moment, 
and the Lord be known to you as " very pitiful." 

Of this we are certain, that " since all that is par- 
ticular in our state is the effect of God's particular 
providence over us, and intended for some particular 
ends, both of His glory, and our own happiness, we 
are, by the greatest obligations of gratitude, called 
upon to conform and resign our will to the will of 
God in these respects, thankfully approving and ac- 
cepting everything that is particular in our state." * 

Therefore, if anything which is not in your power 
to alter compels you to live what seems a deadening 
and fruitless life, faith must contradict seeming s ; 
hopes, and longings, and aspirations, and even the 
energy that could once actuate them, may die within 
you, but if they die in accordance with the will of 
God, they will yet bring forth much fruit. f The 



* Law's " Serious CalL" 

f " But the example of our Saviour, born in meanest estate, and 
showing the glory of the Father through weeds of poverty, and in 
L 4 



152 MORNING CLOUDS. 

withering influences of your lot under which they 
fade, are not more cruel than the frost that holds our 
fields in icy sleep ; yet what a flush of beauty and 
luxuriance follows a hard winter ! What a mass of 
foliage bursts from trees kept in timely check by a 
keen atmosphere ! You may live to find a parallel 
in your own nature. It sounds like a paradox, but, 
in fact, nothing is so favourable to the growth of 
strong natural abilities as repressing circumstances : 
finding a dearth of nourishment elsewhere, the mind 
is forced back into its own depths, and only those 
who have been obliged to sound them for their only 



scenes of contempt, must take off from all his disciples the edge and 
bitterness of envy, and teach them that the capacities of the most 
highly endowed mind have room and verge enough within the most 
mechanical callings, while the same example exhibits and enforces 
the true way to dignify the callings and the characters of men, and 
enables them to sit down with a noble and high contentment, which 
everything may invade, but nothing shall prevail against. And if 
Christ, having such poor instruments to work his work withal, so 
little power and wealth, did yet bear with meekness the imprison- 
ment of his faculties, and look without repining upon the towering 
height of mean and despicable men, finding within his bosom a 
resting-place of peace, in the world a constant field of active well- 
doing, in the bosom of God a constant welcome, and in the pros- 
pects, after his heavy office was discharged, an everlasting feast of 
hope ; — may not we mortal erring men be glad to fulfil the will of 
God in whatever condition He may please to place us, and win to 
ourselves out of the saddest aspects, and in the humblest allotments 
of human life, not only endurance and contentment, but the high 
engagements of a most useful life?" — Edward Irving's Orations. 



THE AID OF AMUSEMENT. 153 

chance of fresh interest, can know how rich and in- 
exhaustible is their own domain ; only those, for till 
human nature is a little starved externally, it will 
never seek purely spiritual pleasure- And I think 
every reflective mind may observe, that it seems to 
be intended that we should get supplies of refresh- 
ment from within more than from without : for surely 
it is remarkable that in times of depression, when 
one longs for any little incident to happen as a relief, 
when one looks about for some small taste of pleasure 
as an invalid desires some nice morsel to rescue the 
palate from constant distaste, that then no letters 
come, that no new books are sent, no impulse, no 
fresh springs from without arise. 

In the sullen phase of disappointment, one is apt 
to think this a causeless thwarting of fate; but behind 
fate is the will of the All wise ; and I believe, that 
even by these insignificant mortifications, He will 
teach us to come to Him for every degree of help ; 
to say to Him with glad conviction, " All my fresh 
springs are in Thee." The precautions of enlightened 
prudence are from Him also : let all be exercised 
in warding off the encroachments of melancholy. 

If from any cause your days are very dull and 
dark, try to find out some employment which gives 
you decided pleasure, or even mere amusement, and 



154 MORNING CLOUDS. 

prosecute the employment as much as other duties 
permit ; for, you see, I hold pleasure to be a duty ; 
we greatly need it, and if we have none, we are to a 
degree disabled for increasing the happiness of others. 
If you can only do a pleasant thing for a short time 
each day, yet that little spot of enjoyment will, by 
the regularity of its return, give to those days a 
warmth and a brilliancy in retrospect which you can 
hardly believe possible, while the dull hours that 
intervene between one time of refreshing and another 
are present ; as we find a fulness of rosy tint in the 
heart of some rose, whose separated petals look almost 
colourless, but the tender flush of each, pressed close 
upon the other, gives to the whole a delicious depth 
of hue ; memory will strangely condense the records 
of daily life, and in returning to them in after times, 
you will find a concentrated essence of pleasure or 
pain, drawn from those multitudes of little things 
which are now either the subjects of your will, the 
stepping-stones by which you climb nearer to per- 
fection, or the tyrants to whom your spirit is in 
bondage, and your servile obedience secured by 
the chains of indolence and habit. 

It is in times of general discouragement that you 
will feel the advantage of being able to do anything 
thoroughly well: even the lightest accomplishment 



UNIVERSAL DECEPTIONS. 155 

may help to restore a wholesome degree of self- 
satisfaction ; and a wide acquaintance with story 
books may then do good service, by reminding you 
of the unlooked-for changes which the future may 
bring; though if you have any pretensions to 
wisdom, this will rather heighten your value 
of present blessings, which might so suddenly be 
taken from you, than stimulate hopes of improbable 
possibilities. 

Times will come to every thoughtful person, when 
every thing, within and without, appears to shake 
from intrinsic hollowness, when all lives seem to be 
carried on under strong delusions, and the whole 
world to be a place — 

" "Where nothing is, hut all things seem, 
And we the shadow of a dream." — Shelley. 

Then nothing seems worth an effort, and one says 
with the Endymion of Keats, 

" I can see 
Nought earthly worth my compassing, so stand 
Upon a misty, jutting head of land — 

Alone, 

With not a thing to sigh for, or to seek." 

Do not yield to this form of temptation, there is 
solidity ; even in this vain world, most solemn reality 



156 MOKNING CLOUDS. 

in all that is done, said, or thought, and your own 
will conformed to God's will, secures permanence in 
its action, and success in its everlasting results. But 
while you remember this, remember that God has 
made man's existence on earth — his spirit's existence 
— to a great degree conditional on delusion } on what 
Carlyle calls "the two great fundamental world- 
enveloping appearances — space and time." 

In vain we attempt to pierce through these ; could 
we do so, it would be maddening to the embodied 
mind. Let us be content with such measures of 
Truth, such intensities of real life, as the nature of 
these illusions allow ; to attempt to be freed from all, 
would be to strive to be no longer a finite being. 



IRRITABILITY. 157 



CHAP. X. 

" Let us make good use of everything we can, but this light fancy 
is a great ingredient in almost every human composition. "When 
we go to reason, and think in earnest, we can hardly have the con- 
fidence to charge any one, that he takes great pains, and runs great 
hazards, to satisfy his vain-glory, and to obtain the praise of doing 
something that other people do not, without intending any other 
end ; when yet, if the man would speak his mind freely, this prin- 
ciple is surely at the bottom." — From a Sermon by W. Fleetwood. 
1700. 

" And thou sekest rewarde of folkes, smale wordes, and of vain 
praisynges. Trulie therein thou lesest the guerdone of virtue, and 
lesest the greatest valour of conscience, and uphap thy renowne 
everlastyng." — Chaucer. 

While examining the internal evils that poison our 
hearts, and neutralise the means of happiness, I shall 
not dwell either on sloth or ill-temper, though both 
are notorious for the varieties of sin and sorrow that 
they occasion, because the first is a malady so well 
known, that one may say with regard to its cure, 
u toutes les bonnes maximes sont dans le monde, on 
ne manque qu'ales appliquer;"* and ill-temper, with 
all its miserable consequences, I believe to be often 

* Pascal. 



158 MORNING CLOUDS. 

only another name for excessive irritability of nerve, 
and this is subject to so many different excitements, 
that to combat it as a simple ill-temper, is of little 
avail; pride, sullenness, peevishness, resentment, 
every modification of what we bewail as ill-temper, 
may perhaps be nicely analysed and arranged in dis- 
tinctive paragraphs ; but they are not a blight which 
we can at once remove, they are all the springings 
up of a root of bitterness. I hope to reach indirectly 
some fibres of this root, to propose means by 
which both its growth may be checked, and the 
thrilling nerves, which convey to it the stimulus of 
pain, soothed, and charged with a more wholesome 
current. 

It is perhaps a presumptuous hope; I might better 
call it an earnest desire. 

The wretchedness of irritability in others requires 
all the forbearance and all the help we can give ; in 
ourselves, exceeding self-command, and a continual 
recurrence to religious principles. 

But I wish now to deal with this " light fancy," 
which, if the old preacher was right in calling it a 
great ingredient in almost every human composition, 
well deserves our attention. 

I wish to drag it into clearer light than it is used 
to, that its mischievous effects may be observed, and 



VAIN-GLORY. 159 

the good tendencies with which it combines, and 
therefore most frequently simulates, may be directed 
to their proper channel. 

For though vain-glory is a vague and subtle vice, I 
think it is in some respects more dangerous than any 
other that can infect a woman's heart ; in times of 
weakness and solitude it grows apace, till, if un- 
checked, every vacancy of thought and feeling is 
occupied by its charms ; and though punishment 
surely awaits it in society, it is from society that it 
draws its most intoxicating supplies. Is it saying 
too much, if I call it a decomposing element that, 
pervading the character, will tarnish its brightest 
parts, and bring the strongest virtues to unperceived 
decay ? And in whatever degree it is allowed, does 
it not produce a corresponding degree of hollowness? 
Lest my expressions should lead to inisaj)prehension, 
I will give a description of its commonest effects 
in the words of Massillon : — i( Ce que nous sommes 
a nos yeux nous interesse peu, nous ne paraissons 
touches, occupes que de ce que nous sommes aux yeux 
des autres, et toute notre attention se borne a em- 
bellir cette idee chimerique de nous-memes qui est 
dans 1' esprit des autres. II ne nous arrive guere de 
nous demander a nous memes ce que nous sommes 
reellement mais nous nous demandons sans cesse ce 



160 MORNING CLOUDS. 

qu' on croit que nous sommes, ainsi, toute notre vie 
est imaginaire et fantastique." 

But, you may say, if this is true of any but the 
French hearts whom he thus addressed, the common- 
ness of this desire for the good opinion of others 
proves it to be one of Nature's salutary instincts. I 
grant it — but I am sure that it is constantly per- 
verted by most excessive indulgence ; all that can be 
called vain-glory is excessive. 

" Every one," it has been said by the excellent 
Mr. Charles Bridges *, " desires to engrave his own 
image upon his companions." A truth to which I 
suppose there are no exceptions, though the desire 
lurks under so many disguises, and would be so often 
disclaimed. Does not the veriest misanthrope feel 
a morbid wish to take some effect upon the imagina- 
tion of his fellow men ? Do not believe him who 
denies it. 

If it were indeed our own image, just the impress 
of what we really are, that we tried to leave on the 
minds of others, there would be no place for vain- 
glory ; but it is too often trying to represent self as 
what self wishes to be, or to be thought to be, — a 
futile effort, since nothing is so legible to all, but 
the unsuspecting deviser of them, as little plots for 

* Bridges on Proverbs. 



SURFACE EXCITEMENT. 161 

self-honour: those that lie most open to exposure, dis- 
play of beauties and talents, quoting fine friends and 
casual evidences of wealth (which generally suggest 
to the hearer that a few samples of each form the main 
stock), are perhaps too well marked by derision to be 
your form of self-emblazonry ; but I beg you to con- 
sider that if you have any, they are but a flimsy veil 
for a very pernicious folly. As you will never pass for 
other than you are, many days together, why not leave 
alone the toil of seeming ? Leave it, even on the lowest 
ground of personal convenience, for this vain-glorious 
spirit is "a blushing shame-faced spirit that mutinies 
in a man's bosom, it fills one full of obstacles."* 

In some temperaments the habitual agitations of 
vanity will gradually acquire the force of passion ; 
will resemble it in all external signs, in all that is 
painful and embarrassing in its sensations, without 
a moment of the sweetness and calm of profound 
feeling ; vainly excited, the sensitive frame will 
tremble, and the empty heart throb, as if some dear 
venture of hope was in sight ; while, all the time, 
nothing more precious is at stake than the liking, or 
respect, or, possibly, the admiration of some person 
to whom the heart is indifferent. Can anything be 
so insane, so wholly a waste ? And then the reveries 

* Shakespeare. 
M 



162 MORNING CLOUDS. 

that follow these unrewarded struggles, when we 
ponder either on the humiliation of defeats, or on 
the measures of incense offered, or likely to be offered, 
to self-love : trying to find out what sort of impres- 
sion we have made, what such a one thought of us ; 
as if we could ever find out, even if the investigation 
was laudable : why, if we could retrace every word 
and look, with every accompanying gesture and cir- 
cumstance, we should still be quite unable to get at 
the truth ; because the mind of each person takes 
impressions according to its own nature and pre- 
conceptions, and as we can never calculate upon 
these with any precision, how vainly do we "search" 
our own glory, where motive, opinion, and feeling 
are usually shrouded from all human cognisance in 
impenetrable concealment ! 

" What I must do is all that concerns me, and not 
what people think," says Emerson, who, with all his 
errors of faith, has given the world many invalu- 
able reminders of truth. " This rule," he continues, 
" equally arduous in actual and intellectual life, may 
serve for the whole distinction between greatness 
and meanness," Now I do not think that a woman 
ought to be indifferent to the opinion others have of 
her ; it is so contrary to her nature to be so, that it 
must be wrong; neither do I pretend that it is 



THE LIMITS OF SELF-ESTEEM. 163 

desirable or possible to avoid all considerations of 
bow we stand in tbe esteem of our neighbour, for 
they are involuntary, and of great service to society. 
It is a very wholesome and pleasant thing to feel 
that we are liked, and I believe it would do us good, 
when this is the case, frankly and gratefully to re- 
cognise the blessing, as well as that of beauty, or 
any other external advantage for which we are re- 
sponsible : for it is not a clear sense of what we are 
or have which nourishes vain-glory, so much as an 
imagination of what we may be, a fear or a hope of 
what others may he thinking of us. 

" Ofttimes nothing profits more 
Than self- esteem, grounded on just and right 
Well managed." — Paradise Lost, book viii. 

Conceit founded on fact may be reduced to true 
proportions by external perceptions, but that which 
spreads in the secret life of a timid or praise-hungry 
heart, nothing from without can rectify: such a heart 
is seldom conscious of the extravagance of its self- 
idolatry, and hours of solitude may pass while it 
feasts on gratifying anticipations, before it even per- 
ceives the absurdity of its occupation. TTe should 
be covered with shame if the plagues of the heart 
were open to human inspection ; and yet we know 
they are naked to the eye of God, and are not con- 

M 2 



164 MOKNING CLOUDS. 

founded ! Do we think that He who loves us more 
than any fellow-creatures can love, who knows the 
issues of sin, and abhors the least, will be, so to 
speak, less particular than they ? less angered by the 
secret indulgence of envious or jealous thoughts, less 
grieved by the deadly bitterness of resentful deter- 
minations, less moved to scorn by ever-new designs 
for self-glorification ? Assuredly we do not : but 
the all-seeing Witness is silent, and though we do not 
go so far as to say, " He taketh no knowledge," the 
strength of our passions makes us to forget His pre- 
sence, and when remembered, we say, " Men would 
hate and scorn and condemn such feelings, but the 
Almighty can see our temptations and will make 
allowance ; He knows that we are but dust." Oh, let 
us take care that in this application of truth we do 
not mock God, and persuade ourselves that He al- 
most connives at our sin. He does indeed see our 
temptations, and know our frailty ; but He sees also 
that we lightly regard His counsel, and neither watch 
and pray against the one, nor seek for the support of 
the other the strength He will largely supply. 

Be sure of it, " The Lord hath purposed it, to 
stain the pride of all glory :" and when He sees it 
rising in the depths of any heart, He will not want 
means for bringing; it to shameful confusion. 



HALLUCINATIONS OF SELF-LOVE. 165 

Can the condemnation that fell on those, of whom 
it was said, " all their works they do to be seen of 
men/' altogether pass over those who, when their 
good works are done from purer motives, ardently 
desire that men may see and praise them ? 

But there is a form of vanity which reverses every 
habit of self-praise, that I can only call vain-dis- 
honour, because it perpetually represents to our 
minds those of other people as occupied with sur- 
prise, contempt, or dislike at our conduct, or for our 
characters: it gathers up every trifle that can be 
thought expressive of fancied condemnation and 
scorn, and broods upon the wounds of self-love with 
as much torment as imagination can add to error. 

This is quite different in its effects from :i that 
eager desire to engage attention which is an original 
disease in some minds ;" * but it is quite as unreason- 
able. 

There is a form of insanity which makes people 
imagine themselves bankrupt, though in reality rich : 
is it less the result of unsoundness of mind, that the 
most amiable sometimes believe themselves to be 
deprived of the love and respect of their fellows ? 
And on what slight grounds ! Perhaps from a hasty 
expression, or a look of surprise, or from silence when 

* Paley 
M 3 



166 MORNING CLOUDS. 

notice was expected. How widely mistaken the 
interpretation of all these may be ! If you are 
given to this sort of delusion, consider what a 
different meaning there is in the "How foolish!" — 
"How provoking she is!" — "How stupid she 
looked ! " that comes from your own mouth as ap- 
plied to another person, and from the lips of another 
as applied to yourself. When you say such things 
there seems no harm in it, or at the worst only a 
little unkindness. They are remarks which you 
feel to be but the simple expression of momentary 
feelings, rather favourable than otherwise to the 
person spoken of, since it relieves you of something 
like a secret grudge against unrecognised dis- 
agreeables; but should such things be said of you, 
or to you about yourself, outraging common good 
manners in your presence, and honourable feeling 
in your absence, then they are sayings of fearful 
weight, imputations, revelations of long-cherished 
dislike, or cruelties, and unfair. For your "own 
keen sense of wrong, that thirsts for sin,"* will 
present them to your imagination highly coloured : 
that they rise from as shallow a spring as your 
own slighting comments is the last explanation that 
will occur to you. But in families where the law 

* Coleridge. 



THE WORTH OF PRAISE. 167 

of kindness is respected, they are rarely tinged with 
matter more poisonous than precipitance in censure 
and impatience of the minute's annoyance; often 
mere pettishness prompts them, or the too common 
need of something to say (nothing easier or more 
generally current than wonder at the conduct of 
others, because human nature in all, and to all, is a 
problem insoluble and always of fresh interest). 
Now think quietly of the waste of feeling, and the 
creation of discomfort that arises from these mis- 
translations of self-love ; and then look at them in 
another direction : where praise has been given 
either to conduct, character, or appearance. Say 
that it is strong and impulsive praise, given in words 
that sink in, because they come from a keen observer, 
and are nicely adjusted to our merits, real or reputed. 
What is such praise worth when we bestow it on 
some one else, heartily and with sincere admiration ? 
Is it of half the value at which it is rated when 
received? Does it show a deep and tender reverence 
for most unusual excellence ? Does the mind dwell 
long on the praise exciting individuals, and watch for 
fresh proofs of their rare merits ? or, does it only 
arise as a passing emotion, such as a pretty flower, or 
trait of character in a story-book awakens ? Akin it 
may be to the deepest feelings, but seldom staying 

M 4 



168 



MORNING CLOUDS. 



long in the mind because of the many thronging 
objects which come before it, and cause one feeling 
to succeed another, one thought to draw on another. 
Oh, dear Self, you are an old fool ! vain-glory fools 
you from the first day you staggered across the 
nursery-floor from your nurse's knees to the chair 
opposite, looking up from the goal for her praise, 
to the last time you were inwardly gladdened by 
hearing that you had made a pleasant impression 
on a stranger ; who yet was possibly too much occu- 
pied with the effect he or she produced on you, to 
retrace your social features very carefully. What- 
ever you have done, or said, or seen, or looked, 
however admirable, you will find, on taking all 
things into consideration, that there was not much 
more cause for glory in it than there was in 
your first unaided footing on the nursery-floor : so, 
if you could but love truth a little more, and vain- 
glory a little less, you would not care to have much 
more notice taken of recent exploits. 

Do not suppose I would underrate the pleasant- 
ness and the serviceableness of being conscious of 
human favour; it gives us an immense advantage, it 
is sunshine to every faculty, and besides proving a 
happy temperament, generally helps us to gain from 
others more last in or affection and regard than liking 



JUSTIFIABLE CONFIDENCE. 169 

alone implies. All I wish to insist upon is thai this 
prepossession in our favour is no solid good unless it 
is the result of genuine virtues : and that where these 
exist, anxiety about their effect is not only useless, 
but a direct hindrance to it. 

Depend upon it, you are less pleasant to look at, 
less wise, less clever, less good, from the moment you 
are so unfortunate as to be assailed by the thought. 
How nice looking, how sensible, how brilliant, or 
how religious I must seem to others! That Cf con- 
fidence for worldly ends is of the same efficacy as 
faith in religion"* has been truly said, but settled 
and effective confidence is never drawn from the 
opinion others have of us ; it is from the conscious- 
ness of our real strength, quite independent of how 
it is regarded by others, that confidence gathers its 
power, and from the consciousness of a simple desire 
to please, for the sake of others, not for our own 
credit, that it gains all its skill in pleasing. 

But yet, you may answer, we cannot help forming 
a kind of ideal of ourselves in our own minds, and in 
voluntarily suiting our behaviour to the character 
of that ideal ; making ourselves in some way 
picturesque to our own minds. 

* Capel Loft's "Self Formation." 



170 MORNING CLOUDS. 

This is so true that I have sometimes thought 
we care more for the praise of our fellow-creatures 
as a proof and justification of the notion we have 
of ourselves, than as a proof of their good opinion. 
I suspect that, after all, to stand well in our own 
esteem is the true source of our hunger for praise, 
but I only hazard it as a conjecture, leaving it for 
every one to decide for herself whether it is so. 
Certainly, a firm and warrantable self-love would 
withhold us from the humiliating anxiety that so 
often leads us to inquire what people think of us. 

To conclude, we find that whatever bad habits go 
with them, nature is not to be overcome in these two 
instincts for idealising self, and desiring the image so 
formed to be stamped on other minds. What then 
is the purpose to which we may apply them ? As in 
most other problems of spiritual life, the solution 
religion gives is as simple as the world's is complex : 
our true ideal is shown us in the life of the Master to 
whose likeness we are permitted to aspire ; whose 
Spirit will abide with us, and reveal to our blinded 
minds what indeed we are, until this likeness is formed 
in us. What more glorious image of ourselves could 
we wish to engrave on the imagination of fellow-men 
than this ? What is more exalting than the simple truth, 
that we are by nature weak and cold as the trembling 



TRUE GLORY. 171 

drops of water that hang on the dewy leaf, which owe 
all their brightness to the sun ; depending wholly on 
Him whose divine influence shines through us in 
greater or less degree, as the soul yields or refuses to 
yield to His light : each of us ever ready to err, to 
sin, to suffer, but still so closely united to the 
Author of all good, and so dearly loved by a 
Redeemer, that we are mighty through Him, and 
heartily desirous to love and serve to the uttermost 
all His servants ? 

And this I suppose is the glorying to which we are 
called, when it is said, " He that glorieth let him 
glory in the Lord." * 

Such glorying will not ever find place in a heart 
panting for the praise of men. But ah ! this is still 
very sweet ; how shall we love it with perfect mode- 
ration ? By striving to be pure in heart, to kill every 
evil rising there, suffering no jealous fears, no proud 
dreams to defile that well-spring. Of ourselves we 
could not do this, but with the aid of our strong 
Advocate we can habitually check every thought and 
feeling whose detection among men would be disgrace, 
whose indulgence in God's presence is a provocation 
of His w r rath. 

It is for this purpose that I think it so essential to 

* 1 Cor. i. 31. 



172 MORNING CLOUDS. 

endeavour " to build up your character in the light of 
distinct consciousness ;" * the inner world is dark with 
many mysteries quite beyond our elucidation, but it 
behoves us to introduce there as much light as we 
can, for there it is that we must make straight paths 
by the side of many a fearful abyss, and through 
much confusion and darkness. It is thought by some 
that thus to control the thoughts of the heart is to 
place a mask upon natural propensities, beneath which 
they would more securely work our ruin ; that it brings 
us into an artificial state in which we first deceive 
ourselves and then others ; that to give indestructible 
tendencies a freer play, to trust more to the guidance 
of impulse, is altogether a more wholesome system 
than that of vigilant self-government ; and there may 
be in every one's knowledge, cases of lamentable self- 
deception where such strange energies of passion are 
displayed under colour of religion, as to lend this 
objection some weight. I believe I might have come 
to the same conclusion on which it rests, i. e. } that an 
undisguised nature is safer than one thwarted 
by internal discipline, had not Holy Writ given a 
contrary decision. " Keep thy heart with all dili- 
gence ; for out of it are the issues of life :"f and, iS the 

* Coleridge. f Proverbs iv. 23. 



RIGHTEOUSNESS IMMORTAL. 173 

thought of foolishness is sin."* And therefore I no 
longer consider it an open question theoretically. In 
practice I find it beset with difficulties, from the 
treachery of a deceitful heart, and the hidden shafts 
of a watchful foe : but these argue nothing against 
the duty of self-discipline; they only make more urgent 
the need of prayer, that God would direct our work 
in truth. 

Again, I find that the intensifying force of expres- 
sion is at least as much to be feared as that of- repres- 
sion, both sometimes supplying vehement stimulus ; 
but when God forbids every expression of evil, I 
cannot doubt which most aggravates it in man's heart. 
To the term " an artificial state " I object, because it 
assumes evil to be part of our truest nature, and in 
this, I dare believe, contradicts revelation. Man was 
made pure and good : that was his original nature ; 
evil, though now in all the thoughts and imaginations 
of his heart, was a breach, a sickness, an opposition of 
the first nature, and that nature is in every real 
Christian revived in baptism, and strengthened by 
growth in grace : it is for eternal life ; what will be im- 
mortal hereafter cannot be called artificial here. I will 
add to my own opinion, upon the importance of self- 
investigation, the advice of Zschokke, hoping thereby 
* Proverbs xxiv. 9. 



174 MOKNING CLOUDS. 

to give it more weight. In the chapter on Selbst- 
kenntniss, in his Stunden der AndacJit, he says: — 
(( Think after each action by which you have clone 
good or ill to any one, wherefore have you clone this? 
What led you to this step ? Investigate with a firm 
eye the secret causes, however deep they would hide 
themselves. Perhaps you did not act with a calm 
mind, with cool consideration; perhaps many cir- 
cumstances took you unawares; perhaps the time 
was too short for deliberation. Yet do not desist 
from inquiring within yourself whence came the 
feelings that moved you? Have you done well in 
allowing them for the moment to obtain mastery over 
you ? Are you not, perhaps through your indis- 
cretion in the sight of others, sunken in the esteem 
which heretofore they had felt for you, which they 
owed to you because they had never before seen you 
so weak ? How is it that at this, as at other times 
also, you are dissatisfied with what you have here 
and there spoken ? What is the true, secret ground 
of your precipitation? Is it not a hidden vanity, 
that ever and anon breaks out involuntarily, and 
becomes manifest ? Is it not perhaps your mortified 
pride, which you would indeed disclaim, but which 

makes you its subject ? 

" Never, when you earnestly examine your inner 



SELF-EXAMINATION. 175 

life, will the secret spring of your feelings remain 
hidden from you ; and if you have really discovered 
them, if you find them so impure that for your own 
honour you must hide them from men, why do you 
not destroy them, cost what it may ? " * 

* " Denke nach jeder Handlung mit welcher du einem Menschen 
"VVohl oder Weh thatest, warum hast du dies gethan ? Was ver- 
leitete dich zu diesem Schritt? Spure mit festem Blick den heim- 
lichen Ursachen nach, wenn sie sich auch noch so tief verbergen 
wollen. Handeltest du vielleicht nicht mit ruhigen Gemuth, mit 
kuhler Ueberlegung ; iiberraschten dich vielleicht mancherlei 
Umstande : war die Zeit zu iiberlegen zu kurz ; auch dann lass 
nicht ab, in dir zu forschen : woher die Gefiihle die dich bewegten ? 
Hast du wohl daran gethan, sie iiber dich in dem Augenblick 
herrschend werden zu lassen ? Bist du durch deine Unbesonnen- 
heit nicht vielleicht in den Augen Anderer aus der Achtung 
hinabgesunken, die sie dir sonst weihten, und die sie dir schuldig 
waren, weil sie dich noch nie so schwach sahen ? 

" Woran liegt es, dass du, wie diesmal auch zu andern Zeiten 
missvergnugt nachher iiber das bist, was du hier oder da gesprochen ? 
"Welches ist auch der wahre, geheime Grund deiner Uebereilungen ? 
ist es nicht eine verborgene Eitelkeit, die immer zuweilen wider 
deinen Willen hervorbricht und laut wird ? Ist es nicht vielleicht 
dein gekrankter Stolz den du zwar hinweglaugnen mochtest, aber 
der dich zu seinem Unterthan macht ? . . . Nie, wenn du mit 
Ernst dein Inneres priifen willst, wird dir die wahre Quelle deiner 
Gesinnungen verborgen bleiben ; und hast du sie wirklich entdeckt, 
find est du sie so unrein dass du sie jedem Menschen deir.er eigenen 
Ehre willen verschweigen musst, warum vernichtest du sie dann 
nicht, es koste dir auch was es wolle ? " 



176 MORNING CLOUDS. 



CHAP. XI. 

K He who is not earnestly sincere lives in but half his being, self- 
mutilated, self- paralysed." — Coleridge. 

" Soil Man die Menscheit beweinen oder iiber die Menschen 
lachen ? Jeder, wie er will: es ist Eines wie das Andere. Ob wir 
spotten oder ernst sind, kriechen oder hiipfen, zaudern oder fort 
sturmen, hoffen oder fiirchten, glauben oder zweifeln, am Grabe 
begegnen wir uns Alle. Dock Eins ist, teas niitzt : die Klarheit. 
Eins ist was besteht : das Recht Eins ist was besanftigt : die Liebe." * 
— Ludwig Borne. 

These were the words of a thinker who witnessing 
the turbulence of a Parisian world in the excitements 
of 1830, looked out for some resting points, and with 
the despair of a keen-eyed observer, and assumed in- 
difference of a humourist, thus described his sense of 
three undeniably good thiugs, which no fever of 
opinion, no resolution in government, no sudden 
change of feeling could deprive of their use. 

Without arriving at his conclusion by the same 



* Ought one to laugh or weep over human nature ? Each one as 
he will ; one is as well as the other. Whether we jest or are serious, 
creep or frisk, loiter or rush on, hope or fear, believe or doubt, at the 
grave we all meet. Yet one thing there is which is of use : Clearness. 
One that endures : Justice. One that soothes : Love. 



CLEARNESS. 177 

melancholy road, or admiring the sarcastic bitterness 
with which he expresses it (though for the acrimony 
of a German of that day resident among the French 
there is much excuse), I take his concluding asser- 
tions as a comprehensive summary of three perma- 
nent and unconditional goods, which I wish to insist 
upon as indispensable to happiness. They would 
not be so if they were not, without any exception, 
within the reach of all. I must, however, preface my 
remarks by saying that, agreeably to my own notions 
of Clearness and Right, I rather arbitrarily attribute 
to Borne's meaning of Klarheit, truth in its various 
operations; and to Recht, justice in all its branches. 
" One thing," he says, " there is which is useful, 
Clearness." 

I believe it has never yet been enlisted in the army 
of virtues which in books we are used to confront 
with temptations, yet, of course it is included in the 
idea of several of them : to me it seems a kind of at- 
mosphere essential to the soul's health, and when sin, or 
error, or neglect in any degree obscures it, in the same 
degree must character deteriorate and strength dimi- 
nish. I think it, therefore, our duty to have as much 
distinctness of perception as can possibly be acquired, 
to have clearness in every impression we take from 
without, clearness in every thought and wish and 

N 



178 MORNING CLOUDS. 

feeling we harbour within : if this is thought wholly 
impossible, it is from a too common ignorance of our 
powers. Without this I do not see how " truth in 
the inward parts," is attainable, for how can you speak 
sincerely of what you only partially know, or guess 
at among a confusion of half-perceptions ? 

Insincerity of expression is inevitable while we 
remain ignorant of the mind whose contents we are 
supposed to utter. But we all know that self- 
knowledge is the most difficult acquirement — yes, 
but is it less a duty because of its confessed difficul- 
ties ? " One would think," said Shaftesbury (whose 
advice in this instance is untainted by his errors), 
" there was nothing easier for us than to know our 
own minds and understand what our main scope was, 
what we plainly drove at, and what we proposed to 
ourselves as our end, in every occurrence of our lives : 
but our thoughts have generally such an obscure and 
implicit language that 'tis the hardest thing in the 
world to make them speak out distinctly. For this 
reason the right method is to give 'em voice and 
utterance : " and again, " He should set afoot the 
powerfullest faculties of his mind, and assemble the 
best forces of his wit and judgment, in order to make 
a formal descent on the territory of the heart, resolv- 
ing to decline no combat, nor hearken to any terms, 



THE STBENGTH OF DISTINCT MOTIVES. 3 79 

till he had pierced into its inmost provinces and 
reached the seat of empire. No treaties should 
amuse him, no advantages lead him aside ; all other 
speculations should be suspended, all other mysteries 
resigned, till this necessary campaign be made, and 
these inward conflicts learnt, by which he would be 
able to gain at least some tolerable insight into him- 
self, and knowledge of his own natural principles." 

Any one who has a strong will is at no loss to find 
out its aim, and the means to be taken to reach it ; 
for strength of purpose, as it excites to perseverance 
and intense attention, wonderfully clears away all 
confusion and hindrances within and without ; but it 
is no less true that habitual scrutiny into motive and 
intention (when not carried to an unwholesome 
length) greatly invigorates the will; for seeing 
clearly what each impulse springs from, and to what 
it probably tends, we know how to deal with it — 
we can starve it to death if condemned by con- 
science ; and if good, disembarrassing it of all weak- 
ening adjuncts, we can actuate it with fixed resolve. 
When we walk in light we know whither we are 
going.* 

If you would have peace in your soul, accustom 

* See Foster's " Essay on Decision of Character " for an admirable 
exposition of its value. 

N 2 



180 MORNING CLOUDS. 

everything that rises within it to speak with definite 
clearness; let your thoughts, even those that are 
painful or wrong, get a fair hearing, that so you may 
be able to apply to them their proper remedy, or to 
enforce instant dismissal. 

Observe, however, that I speak of those that rise 
spontaneously, not of those which, by long musings, 
you may discover or elicit. It may perhaps seem a 
hair-splitting difference to those to whom the subject 
is new, but I believe it to be a very important dif- 
ference, as great as that which distinguishes close 
observation from anatomy. 

We do not get at the truth of our feelings by 
constantly putting them to the test ; by sounding 
their depths; by curious analysis; for the mind so 
engaged soon becomes morbid, and its introverted 
vision confused. It is when feeling or thought stirs 
within us, that we must seize and bring them to 
immediate confession : if we hope to apprehend the 
guilty ones, we must turn round upon them while in 
the very act of disturbing us. For a broad illustra- 
tion, take the case of a man whose pockets are picked 
in a crowd : finding something gone, it is no use for 
him to stand still and look about for the probable 
thief, for the crowd of human beings, like the crowd 
of our emotions, will conceal and mislead continually : 



LIGHT A PURIFYING- POWER. 181 

if the man ever discovers the thief, it must be by 
laying hold of him while the purse or handkerchief 
is being withdrawn. 

Xow conscience is much more likely to detect the 
thieves of internal peace than the cleverest passenger 
the pickpocket ; indeed, if we would give a little 
more judicial attention to those it convicts, they 
would not so often return to assault us with renewed 
subtlety. To some minds, the distinct notice of evil 
which I recommend may seem equivalent to enter- 
taining wrong feelings ; they may think that while 
considering them, they would gain more hold on the 
imagination and will. I must again have recourse 
to a very homelv simile : the vagrant who hangs 
about the back door, unseen by the master, has more 
chance of entertainment from the servants — has 
he not ? — than he who is instantly sent round to 
the front door to receive either deserved assistance 
or prompt dismissal : and so I believe it is with an 
unjust, unkind, or even an impure thought; however 
base or defiling, let it come into the daylight of con- 
sciousness; that seeing our bosom foe, we may be 
humbled, and strive to crush it utterly. If we delay 
to do this, and look on the loathsome thing till it 
becomes less repulsive — till it ventures to attach 
itself to defensive arguments — the ill consequences 

R 3 



182 



MORNING CLOUDS. 



are the results of this delay, not of clear con- 
sciousness. 

I speak of our own consciousness only, holding in 
fearful abhorrence the habit of confession advocated 
by some not yet members of the Romish Church; 
because it seems to me an unauthorised process, by 
which the most honest mind can only add to its own 
obscurity that of another, by appealing from a tri- 
bunal where light is possible, and is promised, to one 
where we are not warranted in seeking it. Such a 
practice is a slight to conscience and a denial of its 
power, which has proved fatally successful in deafen- 
ing the heart to the still small voice that convinces 
of sin. 

Having pledged myself to this opinion, that to 
insure spiritual health we must — if I may be allowed 
such an expression — keep open the spiritual pores, not 
blindly repressing evil, but giving its first movement 
full exposure ; I am bound to mention fairly one 
exception, or rather modification, of my rule.* 



* I do not presume to say that this is the only exception ; those 
who know more of human nature than I do may find in these 
remarks the rash conclusions of ignorance, and may have reason to 
say, that in the earlier stages of many kinds of temptation, distrac- 
tion is safer than self-examination. In offering my opinion on such 
a momentous point, I am aware that (though confidently held) it is 
hut an opinion, and I submit it to the correction of my superiors in 
wisdom and goodness. 



proverbs xvii. 14. 183 

The springs of auger cannot at all times be ex- 
plored with safety : by dwelling on provocations, or 
reviewing disagreeable passages between oneself and 
another, with the distinct intention of allaying con- 
scious resentment, we may yet fail, and only in- 
crease it. 

While the temptation to anger lasts, we must let 
all that excites it entirely alone : not until it has 
subsided may we wisely inquire into its origin, for 
there are central fires in the heart of man which will 
only blaze the more fiercely if we clear a passage for 
them to the open air of our consciousness : we may 
labour earnestly to remove all the smoulderino* fuel 
of indignation, but the mine is too deep for any 
strength of resolve to carry it out of the heart ; it is 
often only in our power to pray that the spirit of 
grace may impede its farther kindling, and then to 
turn from the causes of irritation with resolute for- 
bearance, postponing all notice of them till the keen 
promptings of evil are silenced. TThen angry, did 
you never feel how inexhaustible a small degree of 
indignation seems, while you are seeking to find 
vent for it in expression ? 

You hope by speaking plainly to say it out, and 
have done with it; but you are more likely to lash 

H 4 



184 



MORNING CLOUDS. 



yourself up to the belief that slight grievances are 
unpardonable wrongs. 

I imagine wrath to be more successfully overcome 
by suffocation than any other passion, and I am sure 
you will never be sorry for having stifled it, however 
much it may cost you at the time. Now clearness 
will help you to know what is wrath : where light 
does not make manifest, the disguises under which 
anger and malice are indulged are deplorably nu- 
merous. 

Let us now consider clearness with regard to our 
perception of external things. " It is by the agency 
of indistinct conceptions, as the counterfeits of the 
ideal and transcendental, that evil and vanity exer- 
cise their tyranny on the feelings of man." * This 
is so true that an honest inquiry into ichat happi- 
ness we expect, and why we expect it, from forbidden 
sources, would often entirely remove the misleading 
affection ; but about many things towards which 
the heart naturally inclines we are unable to procure 
distinct impressions, so that until we have learned 
them by experience, this tyranny — which is no other 
than the reign of hope — cannot altogether be escaped. 
Yet I think much may be done for remedying its 



Coleridge. 



PLAIN DEALING. 185 

sorrows, by bringing principles in all their might 
and fulness to bear upon the least emotions and 
imaginations of the heart. You believe it to be 
God's will that such and such a joy is denied to 
you, and you believe His will to be in all ways best ; 
you therefore must believe that this seeming good 
is for you not good, but evil : and yet you allow a 
sentimental longing for it, a sighing regret that it is 
still withheld ; when conscious of this or any similar 
inconsistency, believe that you are to a degree deny- 
ing your faith, and for truth's sake reject the infidelity 
of the heart as sin. If, clearly seeing, you indulge 
it, do not call it weakness ; it is sin, and as such 
must be repented of and forsaken. Do not mistake 
me here, and think I recommend a forced application 
of principle to every passing impulse, for nothing 
more surely ~ falsifies the character than such an 
unnatural habit. Those who will do nothing but 
what principle directly dictates, will soon lose the 
simplicity and joyous freedom which our highest 
principles prescribe : and what thus begins in want 
of judgment, is too likely to end in practical though 
undesigned hypocrisy. 

With regard to your outer life, I advise the same 
distinguishing apprehension of good and evil which 
I dwelt on as most necessary within : when there is 



186 MORNING CLOUDS. 

clearness there, candour and firmness with other 
people follow as a natural consequence. A blessed 
result: whoever brings into society wise frankness 
and simple goodwill is a real benefactor: no elaborate 
prudence, no social talents are so valuable. For I 
think, with Burke, that tc refined policy ever has 
been the parent of confusion, and ever will be so 
long as the world endures. Plain good intention, 
which is as easily discovered at the first view as 
fraud is surely detected in the last, is of no mean 
force. Genuine simplicity of heart is a healing and 
cementing principle." And, with Emerson, I con- 
jure you, for the sake of humanity as well as for 
your own comfort, to " deal so plainly with man and 
woman as to constrain the utmost sincerity, and 
destroy all hope of trifling with you. It is the 
highest compliment you can pay." 

Now, plain dealing so closely depends on plain 
meaning, that, in speaking of your habits as a social 
being, I am obliged to return to the inmost springs 
of action ; and I must repeat that unless these are 
strong and clear you cannot act clearly with others : 
not only must your will be ascertainable, but even 
your wishes, otherwise those with whom you live 
have the burden first of divining them, and then of 
dealing with plans formed under a vague notion of 



FRUITLESS INTENTIONS. 187 

their drift : not to know what you wish when some 
decision must be made, is to impose upon your 
friends a weariness of doubt and endless guessing, 
with some chance of their trouble being fruitless in 
the end. 

How burdensome is the otherwise amiable person 
who does not know her own mind ! and how con- 
stantly held back by the little obstacles her own 
want of clear determination has placed in all direc- 
tions ! Let me take the room of this imaginary 
martyr to indecision as an index of her habits. Her 
table is loaded ; many books, many papers, works in 
various stages of progress; and for the most part 
neatly arranged : but why so many ? Can none be 
cleared away to make more room ? This book, for 
instance ? No ; she rather thinks of copying a page 
in it. That other? Oh, no! she means to read 
several chapters of it again ; and that beside it she 
has always intended to show to a friend who lives 
close by. Several lie there because she meant some 
months ago to read them, and in one the marker has 
travelled to page 120. ; a few more were brought 
up for reference to a forgotten paragraph ; not having 
been consulted yet, they remain, as probably their 
companions will remain, vexing mementoes of un- 
accomplished intentions, till a visit, or some other 



188 MOBNING CLOUDS. 

cause of urgent haste, sweeps them all away, and 
awakens helpless regret. " Oh, I wanted them all f for 
something or other, I forget now what it was : there 
has been no time for half I meant to do ! n Trust 
me, an hour or half an hour of a few successive days, 
steadily employed in clearing away, would have been 
ample for her purposes — and she has wasted many. 
It is the same with letters ; these cannot be put 
away, still unanswered; nor those burned: she thinks 
there was something in one of them she was to take 
a note of — she will see some day: and that other 
contains a receipt which the cook asked for, and she 
always forgets to copy. There is the same hanging 
fire in the needlework of her much-be gumms; hand. 
A few stitches, a little alteration, a string added, 
grounding finished, would make a completion of 
most of them : but, while she intends all this, and is 
tracing patterns for new work, the school childreu 
must wait to have shirt fronts cut out for them, and 
the old woman's nightgown is still too small in the 
collar for the gift to be usable. Is this an exag- 
gerated sketch? I wish it may find no correspond- 
ing outline in real life, for the mischief does not 
tell only on study and works of the hand: opin- 
ions, wishes, all the growth of ^personality, become 
merged in the same confusion; nothing receives the 



INCOMPLETE RESOLVES. 189 

finish and distinct attention of a prompt and decisive 
will. 

A mind encumbered with half-finished resolves, 
incomplete plans, and obscure wishes, cannot act 
with singleness of purpose, and by degrees it becomes 
so painfully embarrassed by its own fruitless accu- 
mulations, that all inevitable business is done with 
precipitance, and a sense of escape from other obliga- 
tions ; and all that can be put off is left to another 
day : — to another day, when decision will be even 
more difficult from still longer disuse. 

" By the street of By-and-by, we arrive at the 
house of Never."* 

I have described an extreme case ; lesser degrees 
of the same irresolution occasion great discomfort. 
Almost and rather are the traitors, by whom many 
a fine mind has been led wavering to apparent use- 
lessness. 

Beware of almost wishing, and rather thinking ; 
of suffering anything that can be perfected to remain 
in an unprogressive state, too feebly pursued for the 
will to grasp it, too desirable for complete renuncia- 
tion, f Decide, — act, — if you rather wish what is 

* Spanish Proyerb. 

f " Distinguish with exactness in thyself and others between 
wishes and will in the strictest sense. Who has many wishes has 



190 MORNING CLOUDS. 

good and attainable, wish it quite, and strive to attain 
it. If you almost think what appears to you just 
and true, carry out that thought to its full conse- 
quences, and let it be then lodged in your mind as a 
completed operation of reason. This, however, is a 
proceeding so irksome to many natures that they 
will flinch from its requirements as from too severe 
an exercise : and to avoid it will be fertile in excuses 
for temporary delay and suspended judgment: they 
may allow themselves both in many cases, for the 
limits of human action and human reason do not 
always permit a short and straight road from will to 
deed, or from thought to certainty ; only let them 
sift their motives for pausing, and know clearly 
whether it is those limits or their own want of 
energy that arrests farther advance. I would fain 
prescribe for them this rule as a mental tonic: never 
let an innocent intention, however trifling, die out 
unfulfilled, if it is in your power to fulfil it ; if you 
once mean to do a thing, fail not, without very 
strong reasons against it, to clothe that meaning in 
deeds. 

generally but little will. Who has energy of will has few diverging 
wishes. Whose will is bent with energy on one, must renounce the 
wishes for many things. Who cannot do this is not stamped with 
the majesty of human nature. The energy of choice, the unison of 
various powers for one, is alone will, born under the agonies of self- 
denial and renounced desires." — Lavater, "Aphorisms on Man." 



TRUE WISDOM COURAGEOUS. 191 

This rale, enforced with unrekxing perseverance, 
will soon make us more careful as to the intentions 
we form, and the affairs in w 7 hich we implicate our- 
selves by the rashness of words. We shall be slower 
to enter into engagements unprepared for their requi- 
sitions, when we resolve that each shall be binding 
and fully carried out. Let us remember that u who- 
soever wills the doing of a thing, if the doing of it 
be in his power, he will certainly do it ; and whoso- 
ever does not do that thing which he has in his 
power to do, does not really and properly will it." * 

Need I say here, that unless the conscience 
be so disciplined to clearness, that repentance is 
felt distinctly, the forsaking of sin is very im- 
probable? How much guilt seems attributable to 
the uneasy sense of past sin, unrecognised and unre- 
pented of; if we have wronged any one by word or 
deed, and passed over the injustice w r ith no confession 
of fault and no real contrition, greater offences against 
truth and charity will too surely follow. 

The time is coming to all, without any exception, 
when a terrible daylight will fill the most secret 
prison-house of conscience ; when all that has been 
evil, false, and impure, unnoticed and unregretted, 
with no prayer for pardon, will be laid open in such 

* South. 



192 MORNING CLOUDS. 

distinctness as the soul of man cannot yet imagine. 
Shall we wait for that awful day to discover sins of 
which we have been wilfully unconscious ? 

It is generally said that Wisdom looks on the 
bright side of things. She does ; but, believe me, 
she fearlessly investigates the darkest also ; for she 
knows that there also the power and goodness of God 
are at work. 

I entreat you to be brave, to accustom your mind 
to a steady observation of existing evils, whatever 
they may be ; and I shall borrow a fuller expression 
of my opinion on this point from a German writer 
whose depth, and power, is unquestioned. 

" Es ist mannhafte Kuhnheit, das Uebel fest ins 
Auge zu fassen, es zu nothigen s,tand zu halten, es 
ruhig, kalt, und frei zu durchdringen, und es aufzu- 
losen in seine Bestandtheile. Audi wird man nur 
durch diese klare Einsicht des Uebels Meister, und 
geht in derBekampfungdesselben einher mit sicherem 
Schritte, indem man, in jedem Theile das Ganze iiber- 
sehend immer weiss wo man sich befinde, und durch 
die einmal erlangte Klarheit seiner Sache gewiss ist, 
dagegen der Andere, ohne festen Leitfaden und ohne 
sichere Gewissheit, blind und traumend herumtappt. 
Warum soil ten wir was denn avich scheuen vor dieser 
Klarheit ? Das Uebel wird durch die Unbekanntschaft 



DOUBTFULNESS. 193 

damit nicht kleiner, noch durch die Erkenntniss 
grosser; es wird nur heilbar durch die letztere."* 

Look chiefly on the sunny side of things, but 
" remember the days of darkness " — and yet while 
remembering the most painful truths, do not habi- 
tuate yourself to long pondering on the unremovable 
difficulties of life, on all its uncertainties ; the many 
things which admit of strikingly contradictory trans- 
lations : for it is an ill habit of mind to be too familiar 
with doubt of any kind; giving it an instability of 
opinion, a dizziness of eye not unlike that of the 
body's, when long gazing upon fluctuating movements 
it almost loses the feeling of firm ground on which it 
may remain fixed and calm. 

I think it greatly helps in the acquirement of clear- 
ness to revert constantly to all the broad undoubted 
principles of nature and ethics, which neither time nor 
chance can alter, " for the nature of man doth ex- 

* It is manly boldness to fix one's eyes firmly on evil, to compel 
it to stand out ; calmly, coolly, and freely to penetrate it, and to 
reduce it to its elements. Also one only becomes superior to evil 
by tbis clear insigbt, and one goes fortb to battle against it with 
secure steps ; whilst in each part overseeing the whole, one knows 
always where one is, being, through once attained clearness, sure of 
one's cause ; on the contrary the other, who is without firm guiding 
lines, and steady certainty, gropes about blind and dreaming. Why 
then should we be afraid of this clearness ? Evil does not become 
smaller through our ignorance, or greater through recognition ; it 
only becomes curable by the last. — Fichte. 

O 



194 MORNING CLOUDS. 

tremely covet to have somewhat in his understanding 
fixed and immovable, and as a rest and support of the 
mind." * 

Throughout the Bible the heart of man is con- 
tinually challenged by his Maker to decide clearly 
and for ever, between good and evil, life and death, 
His service or the slavery of sin. Until this decision 
is made, and firmly embraced by our free-will, 
we cannot be at peace with ourselves, or the world 
in which we find our choice must be made : we are 
" neither hungry for God, nor satisfied with the 
world ; but remain stupid, and unapprehensive, with- 
out resolution and determination, never choosing 
clearly, nor pursuing earnestly ; and therefore never 
enter into possession, but always stand at the gate 
of weariness, unnecessary caution, and perpetual 
irresolution." f 

* Bacon. f Jeremy Taylor. 



JUSTICE. 195 



CHAP. XII. 

u Alle Rechte, welche wir oder Andere in der biirgerlichen Ge- 
sellschaft besitzen, sind Bedingungen, unter denen wir Hiilfsmittel 
zu niitzlicher Wirksamkeit erwerben, gebrauchen, und bewahren 
konnen." — Zsckokke's " Stunden der Andacht."* 

" Most of our errors arise from a narrow partiality to our own 
interests and humours, for we do not see things in the same light 
when the case is our own as in another's. If mj hogs break into my 
neighbour's corn, it is an accident, and such things ought not to be 
minded between friends; but if his hogs break into mine, then the 
case is altered, for he ought to have yoked them, and it is but 
reasonable that he should pay for his negligence." — Tucker's 
*' Light of Nature pursued." 

An inquiry into Rights is only one branch of the 
duty of clearness already insisted upon. " Eins ist, 
wasbesteht, dasRecht." It is the one thing — Borne 
says, one of the things — I should say, that endures : 
it is in some senses indestructible. Ur der the head 
of Recht, I class all forms of justice to ourselves 
and others ; rights which love protects, but which 
are, as it were, a preliminary to the exercise of love : 
for until we know what is justly due to ourselves 
and others, how can we give it? Justice to our- 

* All rights, which we or others possess in society, are conditions 
under which we can obtain, use, and preserve the means of useful 
activity 

o 2 



196 MORNING CLOUDS. 

selves shall come first, because it is in our own hearts 
that all virtues must first be exercised : if untrue in 
our dealings with self, we are infallibly untrue 
towards others ; if unjust to self, unjust to others. 

Let self then hold firm the rights which it cannot 
resign without running every risk of curtailing those 
of its neighbours. Spiritual liberty — that is our 
dearest and best. I say spiritual, because liberty of 
action is often impossible to women, liberty of 
speech imprudent ; but liberty icithin — let us guard 
that most jealously, for it is what we most easily 
lose by our own carelessness or cowardice, by suffer- 
ing the influence of companions to enslave us, making 
their opinion our only standard, the fulfilment of 
their expectations our highest aspiration ; and to 
avoid this self-betrayal is extremely difficult to 
woman, whose character, to be amiable, must be 
yielding in many respects ; but oh, let her take care 
what she yields, for bitterly will she rue it if she 
allows any one to rob her of her freedom univarrant- 
ably : self-respect must not for a moment be im- 
perilled.* 

* " Our great and most difficult duty as social beings is, to derive 
constant aid from society without taking its yoke ; to open our minds 
to the thoughts, reasonings, and persuasions of others, and yet to 
hold fast the sacred right of private judgment; to receive impulses 
from our fellow-beings, and yet to act from our own souls; to 



SELF-LOVE AT LOW TIDE. 197 

If, as I am taking for granted, your abilities are 
rather above than below the average, I may also 
reckon on your being hampered by some very 
notable follies, or weaknesses, if a gentler name is 
preferred. Perhaps you are " in words too wise, 
in conduct still a fool." You have probably certain 
constitutional flaws which, over and above the many 
stains of sin, make you at times to despair of any 
high attainments, and most of all, of any peace with 
yourself. 

Constant backsliding and guilt the Bible had 
prepared you to expect ; but this tripping up of 
all moral dignity by confusions, fears, and petty 
anxieties, to which it would seem a degradation to 
give a name, baffles all calculation. You had owned 
yourself sinful; it seems almost more difficult to 
believe yourself this unprecedented fool : yet such, 
no doubt, you are in many points of view, and most 
weak and imperfect in all. 

sympathise with others, and yet to determine our own feelings; 
to act with others, and yet to follow our own consciences; to unite 
social deference and self- dominion ; to join moral self-subsistence 
with social dependence; to respect others without losing self-respect; 
to lore our friends, and to reverence our superiors ; whilst our su- 
preme homage is given to that moral perfection which no friend 
and no superior has realised, and winch, if faithfully pursued, will 
often demand separation from all around us. Such is our great 
work as social beings, and to perform it we must look habitually to 
Jesus Christ." — Channing. 

o 3 



198 MOKNING CLOUDS. 

These confoundings of self-respect, these floods of 
disgrace which appear quite to overwhelm all old 
fortresses of strength, are exactly what you need to 
make you " heavenly wise by humbled will." * 

Entrusted to you are certain means of great 
spiritual power; were you only or chiefly conscious 
of these, you might be in danger of the " insanity of 
conceit." Thank God for every stroke of humilia- 
tion, and welcome it as the bringer of truth : but 
sometimes we abuse even this healthful blessing, and 
twist it to untruth ; saying with bitter feeling all 
that the irritation of wounded pride suggests ; rail- 
ing at self as the inconsistent fool, the despicable, 
cowardly companion, that has dragged one to the 
dust, and by this common division of identity, giving 
the angry mind an object of indignation within easy 
reach. And in so doing we wrong self-respect ; and 
allow such ejaculations as these to pass uncontra- 
dicted : " Yes, I know I am fit for nothing, of 
course ; it is no use trying — I always fail." Yet you 
know that all God's servants are fit for something 
worthy of immortals (in some moods you suspect 
yourself of being fit for the work of a high intellect) ; 
it is therefore of some use to try. If you always fail, 
you either mistake the nature of your endowments, 
* Spenser, 



PROFITABLE SHAME. 199 

or you do not know the best means of applying 
them. 

If melancholy represents to you your innumerable 
disabilities with every appearance of truth, still 
uphold your right, and though you cannot then 
adequately assert it, remember that it remains in- 
violable as long as it is not voluntarily ceded. 

A little patience, and quiet resting till the frame 
of mind and body recovers tone, and just self- 
reliance will be restored. Meanwhile remember that 
the most egregious folly may further your progress 
towards true wisdom, may help you to show te all 
meekness unto all men," on the grounds to which St. 
Paul refers " for we ourselves also were sometimes 
foolish, disobedient, deceived." * 

Every fall, every fault committed, and duty ill 
done or neglected, should deepen our humility, and 
enlarge the scope of forbearing love. 

If I am not mistaken, this very keen sense of 
deficiency is not often found except in an affluent 
nature ; the infirmity that besets strong minds, be it 
what it may, is generally great and striking in pro- 
portion to their power. 

I will not enlarge further upon the rights of self, 
but commend them to the truth-born courage which 

* Titus iii. 3. 
o 4 



200 MORNING CLOUDS. 

will enable you to maintain with humility every 
rightful prerogative : and I will point out, as briefly 
as I can, some of "our neighbours' rights that I think 
most likely to be endangered by inattention or 
selfishness. 

To secure these there must be justice not only in 
your actions and words, but in your inmost thoughts. 
Against one form of silent injustice I would espe- 
cially caution you — the foolish surprise at any glaring 
inconsistency in other people, which, if genuine, 
proves you to be dangerously ignorant of the human 
heart in general, and your own in particular. You 
ought to know, and knowing never forget, that in 
this hidden world good and evil struggle in closest 
union; that sometimes scarcely a moment divides the 
sincerest aspirations after holiness from the weakest 
yielding to its opposing vice; that while generous 
intentions are glowing in the consciousness of man, 
some secret scheme for self -exaltation is often giving 
them immediate impulse, and staining the purity of 
sacrifice. 

It is vain to deny this and similar facts, because 
they are sad, and almost destroy the hope of unmixed 
goodness ; we can only acknowledge them with the 
contrition of fallen beings, and overcome the subtle 
temptations to which our enemy will apply them, by 



HUMAN FKAILTY. 201 

the encouraging promises of Scripture. But seeing 
that we have all too strong proofs of this fatal 
liability to sudden declension, seeing that in the 
noblest souls we can find a vein of baser metal 
which, successfully touched by evil, might bring 
their firm structure to the brink of ruin, let us have 
done with childish or hypocritical amazement when 
we trace the workings of corruption in the heart, 
where it is most discordant with lono>tried virtue. 
Satirists have seen it and laughed ; they have noticed 
the proximity of high principle and base practice, 
and have said, " To what purpose is this profession 
of goodness ? " But the terrible doubts so instilled 
must not disturb the faith of Christ's servants; 
while the record of Peter's transgression remains to 
us, we cannot despair either for ourselves or for 
another, however deep and sudden the fall which 
makes hope seem to be impossible. 

Hope, and respect, and tender indulgence are rights 
which every human creature may claim. You will 
infringe upon these rights most cruelly by a habit of 
hasty censure. Avoid as much as you can anything 
like pronouncing judgment : it is as foolish as it is 
wrong, and expressly forbidden by Him who comes 
to judgment when the time for man to exercise for- 
bearance and mercv will be at an end also. There is 



' 



202 MORNING CLOUDS. 

a kind of accusation which, if applied to yourself, 
under similar circumstances, would waken you to a 
feeling of its injustice : it is that of saying, in tones 
of disgust, " So and so is such an unnatural character, 
there is so much of a falsetto about her." This is, no 
doubt, very disagreeable and detaching ; but before 
you make it an excuse for disliking thoughts and 
hard judgments, think what has caused this departure 
from nature. Perhaps circumstances that excluded 
from common influences ; that forced some tendencies 
to a morbid growth, and left many wholesome ones 
stunted and uneasy from repression. Believe me, 
this is so often the case, that, unless pity is your 
strongest feeling when annoyed by affectation or 
formality, you will be grievously unjust. 

Women are peculiarly liable to have their true 
nature falsified till it is almost beyond their own 
recognition. Those whom one meets in this lament- 
able state are frequently the victims of error instilled, 
or restraints imposed, by their earliest teachers 
from mistaken principles of education. If you were 
in the society of maimed or distorted people, I con- 
clude that your gentlest skill would be employed in 
trying to make up for their deprivations by every 
service that you, in the freedom of health, could 
render: are the baffled instincts of the heart, the 



DIFFERENCES OF NATURE. 203 

unsatisfied cravings of a misdirected intellect, the 
dumb sorrows of a thwarted nature, less pitiable than 
bodily affliction ? Alas ! they are too often as little 
susceptible of cure. The power of a Creator can 
infuse new vigour into a shrunken limb, for it can 
raise the dead ; and vitiated feelings, and deathlike 
torpor in the soul, that irresistible force can alter, — 
too often only that. A time comes when the mind 
that has been long accustomed to falseness groans 
in vain for return to simplicity ; it has gone so far 
out of the way, that every step of return is slow and 
toilsome. Every unhappy wanderer has a right to 
all the assistance you can give, but without pity and 
consideration you cannot assist. Yet often we think 
a nature falsified when, in fact, it is only false to our 
notions of what every one's nature ought to be : the 
right of all to have their conduct interpreted accord- 
ing to the genius of their own character, is a right 
we too often lose sight of. It is most important 
that we should never forget it; no two bodies are 
just alike, no characters exactly similar; how foolish, 
then, to endeavour to interpret the action of different 
minds by rules that may be only adapted to the 
peculiarities of our own. As an instance, see how 
liable we are to misjudge the amount of feeling in 
other people ; it may be natural to our temperament, 



204 MORNING CLOUDS. 

and to those with which we are most familiar, 
to say very little about things that deeply grieve 
us; yet the neighbour who came in to chat with 
you so fluently about her recent affliction grieved 
deeply also : what right have you to deny it ? Your 
heaviest sorrows sink to the lowest depths of the 
heart, and seldom appear on the surface — hers na- 
turally do : she might, I imagine, as well say that 
you do not mourn, because you mourn silently, as 
you suppose that she does not, because she is gar- 
rulous in woe. Do you think your neighbour, who is 
relieved on hearing of a friend's death by a full flood 
of tears, would be justified in thinking you insensible 
because, when your bereavements are announced, 
not a muscle of the face alters; because you can 
restrain every sign of feeling till in solitude the 
heart's storm may break out, and the sense of desola- 
tion overspread it without fear of observation, and 
without the anguish of being reminded, by the ill- 
success of human consolers, of the one whose love 
has no longer a voice on the earth? 

To judge rightly of the feelings of others is in many 
cases very difficult ; in none more so than in matters 
of religion. Things which to some are essential to the 
performance of pious duties, to others have absolutely 
an undevotional tendency. Certain forms of prayer 



THE INSTINCT OF CONTRADICTION. 205 

and praise may adequately express the feelings of your 
soul, but they may be insufficient for the truth of 
emotion in another : now, if the person who does not 
use unbidden forms is therefore judged to be indif- 
ferent to religion, the greatest mistake may be made. 
A spirit less truly devout would be more easily 
satisfied with formulas which, when remote from 
individual feeling, are more of a check than of an 
exponent to the life of piety. 

It is not uncommon for vigorous minds to show 
their love of perfect liberty by antagonism ; to think, 
and feel, and say precisely that which it was not 
expected they would, and seldom to express agree- 
ment with the tone of feeling that the occasion seems 
to call for. This turn for opposition may be carried 
to an unamiable length, to the weakness of sheer 
wilfulness; but I must own that its indulgence is 
very natural in a state of society which shelters so 
many kinds of deceit. It is the protest of honesty 
in a world that is too often servile to many-hooded 
" humbug." And spontaneity is so essential to true 
feeling, that if one sees one is expected to seem 
aifectionate, or grave, or devout, it is to me the most 
improbable thing that one should at the moment feel 
either : something like an opposite current of elec- 
tricity is induced by a manner that seems to say, 



206 MORNING CLOUDS. 

" I am sure you must feel this, and I am waiting for 
proofs of your right feeling." The self-regulating 
mind would fain make answer, u Then you will have 
some time longer to wait." 

However, we owe it to love, if not to rigorous 
justice, to explain marked differences of feeling when- 
ever they admit of satisfactory explanation. The 
perverse spirit that delights in surprising a slow 
observer, by needlessly exhibiting singularities of 
thought and feeling, will not be found most intrepid 
in upholding those differences of opinion which, 
though dear to the soul as truth, cannot always be 
explained to those who regard them with suspicious 
wonder. A few words of gentle acknowledgment 
that, for such and such reasons, sympathy or assent is 
not in your power to give, will come most naturally 
from lips that will not once move in defence of such 
truths as are insulted by being brought into question. 

In replying to any temporary or habitual antago- 
nist, be very careful not to be run away with by the 
facility of eloquence. The rights of other people 
are more often sacrificed to powerful modes of expres- 
sion than to intentional ill-will, and unless you watch 
against this temptation, when able to answer in a 
forcible and convincing style, you will infallibly 
become unjust. 



ABUSE OF POWER. I [ 7 

Nothing is easier than by well-arranged sentences 
and clever putting forward of some truths, to darken 
your own reason and hide your neighbour's claims ; 
without any positive untruth, it is frequently done. 
You have but to omit one little modifying circum- 
stance from your statement, to outrun, by a very 
little, the meaning of another, to answer ever so 
little beside the purpose, and the evil triumph is 
yours. Your opponent is wronged, without osten- 
sible injustice : if the wrong is felt and complained 
<::", y:u may lament it as one of the many misunder- 
standings for which there is no remedy : you may 
try to unsay what, on reflection, you feel to be 
unfair : you may be truly sorry for the haste with 
which you employed the bright weapons of your 
mind in making a brisk attack, or vehement justifi- 
cation: but rights have been neglected, and you may 
not always be able to repair the mischief. More 
humility under provocation, more of the enjoined 
honouring of all men. would have enabled you to 
follow more closely the line of feeling you professed 
to answer, to disentangle error from truth with a 
more accurate skill: in short, to do full justice to 
another, however widely opinions differed. If your 
own cause was to be handled with brilliant but in- 
exact eloquence, you would feel the greatness of the 



208 MORNING CLOUDS, 

injustice I here speak of; you would be apt to call 
it ungenerosity and unfairness, rather than mis- 
take. 

A mistake, simply a mistake, occurs, I think, in 
society too often from an enthusiastic manner of 
speaking or writing, which tempts us to deny to 
another the right of being believed: we all know 
the chilling effect of an inflated style in our book 
acquaintances, and that the suspicion will arise as to 
its being a genuine utterance of the writer's mind. 
And why ? Surely enthusiastic, fervid feeling is not 
so rare as to justify the doubt ? I have frequently 
paused over this question, surprised at the utter dis- 
gust my own records of past fervours produce in me. 
As far as I can decipher the cause, it is that in these 
expressions of feeling lively emotions have been re- 
gistered, but the train of facts or thoughts which 
occasioned them has had no adequate notice, and 
they are thus stranded like the dead weeds cast up 
by a singularly high tide : in a word, they are out of 
proportion with average degrees of feeling, and very 
seldom has disproportion any credit. But it is no 
case of hypocrisy, or forced excitement. 

There are many subjects of human interest which 
stretch so far beyond human powers, that it is more 
wonderful to dwell upon them unmoved, than to lose 



STRONG EXPRESSIONS LIABLE TO MISTRUST. 209 

oneself in amazement and inexpressible thought; and 
it is (we are told) good to be "zealously affected in a 
good thing;" only, when we wish to affect others, we 
must never forget the narrower perspectives of more 
common moods. The Englishman's darling common 
sense, must not be shocked, nor his antagonism roused, 
by the indulgence of emotions not yet explained, or 
manifested in excitement, which all feel to be the 
child of weakness. 

Take care, therefore, lest you in your turn tempt 
another to refuse you due credence ; unless a sound 
judgment warrants your warmth of expression, your 
words will be worse than useless ; and if vanity 
prompts their vehemence, they may be admired 3 and 
they may fan a doubtful flame into sparkling light, 
but they cannot live, they cannot strengthen a good 
cause; belief in them is rightfully refused. 

Lest you should have to deprive your neighbours of 
a right which only custom leads them to believe their 
own, I counsel you not to apologise habitually where 
apology is not due. It may be the natural habit of 
a gentle and courteous person to justify and explain 
her conduct when no one else is in a position to call 
her to account, and thus to invite interference which 
is not consistent with individual liberties : but though 
it appears an amiable weakness to a careless observer, 

p 



210 MOBNIKG CLOUDS. 

it is a weakness that soon brings its own punishment, 
and difficulties very unfavourable to amiability. 

Well may our inspired teachers so often urge us 
to meditate on Wisdom, for in every concern, in the 
least as well as in the greatest, for our happiness as 
well as for our soul's health, it is the "principal 
thing." We justly fear sin : let us tremble also at 
our least habitual folly, for every folly has a propor- 
tionate penalty, and so urgent is the necessity for its 
correction, and the means when once put in practice 
so potent, that I am inclined to apply to any permitted 
weakness these admonitions against sin : " Bind not 
one sin upon another, for in one thou shalt not be 
unpunished."* "Wherewithal a man sinneth, by the 
same shall he be punished."f 

* Eccles. vii. 8. f Wisdom, xi. 1 6. 



OPPOSING TESTIMONY. 211 



CHAP. XIII. 

" Let friendship creep gently to a height ; if it rush to it, it may 
soon run itself out of breath." — Fuller. 

" Eins ist was besanftigt, die Liebe." — Bdrne. 

One thing soothes (or pacifies), Love. But what 
sort of love is here spoken of ? The love one feels ? 
or the love of which one is the object ? 

I think this will be answered differently by people 
whose experience has not enabled them to know 
much of the effects of both together. 

Those who are of a cold temperament, or who 
from infancy have been loved too well and too gene- 
rally to know unsatisfied cravings for love, may say, 
" Oh, surely, the love one feels is what quiets and 
occupies the heart : what one can so seldom fully 
enjoy ; it is so difficult to love as entirely as one 
could love ; so easy to be loved. Just be rather agree- 
able and good-natured, and people will love you, or 
pretend to love you, till you are weary of the cheap 
pleasure. Oh, without doubt, in this giving is far 
more blessed than receiving !" Speak low, fortunate 

p 2 



212 MORNING CLOUDS. 

creature ! blessed indeed outwardly in no common 
degree, though scantily endowed with feeling ; speak 
low when you say these or like words, for perhaps 
there are hearts shivering near you that long have 
pined for but a part of your abundance ; who, either 
from dulness or timidity, or some other impediment 
to a pleasing manifestation of their natures, have 
hungered through life for a return of love ; loving 
warmly, with intense, anxious love, and the inevit- 
able jealousy that makes its success more unlikely, 
its repulse more frequent, than fearless love can 
imagine. 

People who have hearts such as these would tell 
you, if their painful reserve was ever broken 
through, that ft God had made them evil-favoured in 
this world, and without grace in the sight of men, 
speechlesse, and rude, dull, and slow-witted;"* that 
it is easy to have the whole soul filled with love, but 
that this did not soothe them, that it made them 
restless, and the prey of fear and doubt. To be 
loved again, to be dearest to another, is, according 
to their feelings, the one thing that soothes and con- 
soles under any affliction. 

This contrast of experience involves tragedies of 
daily life, which I am quite unable to enter upon 

* Tindal's Letter to Frith. See Cotton's " Mirror of Martyrs." 



THE CLAIMS OF FRIENDSHIP. 213 

with adequate powers of consolation: whatever truth 
lies in the saying that, (i le secret d'etre aime est de 
ne pas aimer/' is so sad, that I would rather leave it 
to the individual patience and prudence of each on 
whom its doom falls, than prove my own incapability 
by attempting to clear up its mysteries. HajDpily 
there are very few whose lot it is only to be loved, 
or only to love ; few who do not warmly reciprocate 
the love that is bestowed on them : most women ex- 
perience both these blessings, but many want greater 
wisdom for enjoying the privileges and discharging 
the duties of both. I will therefore notice whatever 
appears to me most commonly overlooked in these 
respects; and because so boundless a subject requires 
limits, my first remarks shall be upon love that is, or 
ought to be felt as the highest blessedness of which 
we are capable, in relation to our fellow-creatures, and 
then upon the love which we attract, either unde- 
servedly or by the natural links of cause and effect. 
(And you must understand that I refer to love in its 
general sense, not to the passion which is felt ex- 
clusively for one ; that love which is beyond all other 
love in its mngic and in the momentousness of its 
results.) 

It is but repeating a world-old truism to say that 
we often love a few too much, and very many too 

P 3 



214 MORNING CLOUDS. 

little. It is hard when love has gone deep into the 
heart to put any bounds to its sway : to observers it 
may seem excessive, to ourselves quite unequal to 
the merits, the rare excellences of the beloved ; but 
sorrow awaits all who love without moderation and 
a wakeful remembrance of the exceeding frailty of 
human nature, even at its best : sorrow, and what is 
far more abhorrent to those who love, change, — it 
may be, alienation. Every idol is at last thrown 
down, it matters not how strong the foundations are 
on which it is placed, nor how firm the affiance of 
those who raise it, nor how lovely and good it is 
itself; — to the idolising heart its doom is solemnly 
pronounced by the word of truth, and either by 
change, or death, or intervening accidents, the ob- 
ject of idolatry is separated from the foolish one 
who, in anv decree, clings to the creature more than 
to the Creator. 

But while you remember what human nature is, 
and what the true object of your deepest love, you 
will be in no danger of loving a fellow-creature too 
well : and you may love devotedly, and still wisely, 
with a heart surely fixed in its right resting-place. 

I think much of the unhappiness from affection 
that we hear complained of, is unjustly attributed to 
love : it is frequently from self-love, which has trans- 



GRATITUDE. 215 

ferred its exactions to the heart of another, and find- 
ing them either ignored or opposed, raises a plaintive 
cry about unrequited love. Believe me, true love 
is too happy to benefit those it loves to make these 
frequent allusions to requital; it would be rejoiced 
by the least sign of increasing love, but it never 
dreams of buying it by obligations ; thanks, acknow- 
ledgments, caresses, it may often miss in quiet dejec- 
tion, but it is far too humble for complaint. When 
every little slight gives rise to the gloom of wounded 
self-love, we may be sure that our love is not of a 
kind that can well bear examination ; it is a clumsy 
imitation — a great affection for self, veined (it may 
be) with good principles, and very prettily varnished 
with sentiment. 

I often wonder at the mistakes people fall into 
about gratitude — at the surprise expressed where it 
fails after great benefits have been conferred ; for in 
many cases the benefits were so little desired, that 
they are felt to be a heavy burden, a fetter on the 
heart, forming the unwarrantable hold of an uncon- 
genial nature on one whose principles make a show 
of love and gratitude impossible, when they are not 
really felt. 

It is true that we may and ought to feel obliged 
for the actual good done ; but in not a few instances 
r 4 



216 MORNING CLOUDS. 

visible benefits are received at the expense of far 
more precious feelings, sensitive delicacy being 
bruised, and independence of action shackled, by- 
material boons which the poor recipient would feel 
richer without. Is it possible then to feel the joy of 
gratitude ? When will people practically remember 
that, with regard to the affections, being is of far 
more consequence than doing ? To do that which 
deserves love in return, and to be what we cannot 
love, is to impose upon an honourable mind the most 
painful conditions. 

There is an extreme of unselfish love, of which a 
high order of beings are capable, that may produce ill 
effects, though it has a somewhat sublime appear- 
ance; a love which is so disinterested, so far from 
seeking its own, that it seems to give up all hope of 
finding anything to value or admire in those it seeks 
to benefit. It is more compassionate than tender, 
and seems so much more fitted to give support than 
to receive it, that it may be a little galling to our 
pride, and prove superiority too undeniably for our 
taste ; in short, it has only to be exhibited in large 
dimensions to be recogrised as patronising. Now 
spiritual patronage is not much more agreeable than 
that which takes a broader — a carriage-road to 
inflict obligation. 



SUDDEN FRIENDSHIPS. 217 

I own myself very impatient of being loved on 
principle ; yet, if that is the only way in which we 
can be loved, I for one would not reject my neigh- 
bour's fulfilment of the royal law. Let the most 
superior sample of humanity love me because it is a 
duty to love, but let me humbly suggest that there 
should be no sign of condescension ; and that a more 
common sort of affection, the give and take of 
mutual kindness, is not always so entirely out of the 
question as these pitying friends suppose. While 
they do so, it should not surprise them if the inferior 
sometimes grows a little restive under treatment that 
is unflattering to self-love, and sometimes wishes to 
decline the advantages that might result from it. 

Beware of what attachments you incur — guard 
your love as you would guard your liberty ; it is a 
treasure which you may squander hastily from the 
" besoin d'aimer" natural to inexperience, but which 
you will often be fain to buy back with grief and 
perplexity inexpressible. From the first time that 
you indulge in terms of lavish affection, feeling them 
all too weak to express your joy in the acquisition of 
a new friend, to the last, when using them towards 
this same friend seems a mockery of the want felt 
within, you may love and be loved ; but how little 
will you be soothed by that love if it has not taken 



218 MORNING CLOUDS. 

root in your heart ! A poor pretender to the position 
it cannot maintain, it languishes more and more as 
time gives more repeated proofs of its hollow insuffi- 
ciency ; it snatched the insignia of sovereignty, and 
used its outward seal, while the usurpation was not 
opposed by feeling ; and now that it is, — now that 
it would fain sink into due nothingness, — it dares 
not lay aside its state and high pretensions, lest the 
treason become evident to others also. The secret 
of many an intimacy quickly fanned into a blaze of 
romantic love is this, the heart has yearned for a 
bosom friend, and hopes to find one by tenderly 
attaching itself to a kind companion, and pouring 
upon her its wealth of love : when all is given, and 
constitutional peculiarities begin to show the absolute 
impossibility of her perfect recipiency, or equal at- 
tachment, a chilling doubt creeps over the sanguine 
heart, and, though repelled, it will grow to conviction, 
and conviction to a miserable sense of alienation, and 
alienation to all the bitterness of self-reproach. How 
then? Was love wrong? Is this deep-seated dislike, 
that will make itself heard in the midst of caresses 
and kind words, is this right, — this more real than 
love ? So I believe : that hasty surrender to what you 
called love was wrong, and what you felt was untrue, 
inasmuch as you felt for an image of your own for- 



VAIN EFFORTS TO CHEAT THE HEART. 219 

mation, not a reality : also, this dislike may bring 
you to a more just conclusion than that mistaken 
love ever could ; it may lead you to see that you 
must love for some better reason than that you think 
yourself understood and appreciated ; this you may 
be by those for whom it will be impossible for you 
to feel a lastingly strong affection. 

Be, then, on your guard against hasty conclusions 
about characters little known to you ; do not think, 
because you know that admirable qualities are to be 
met with in friends, that when you have found friends, 
you have necessarily found these also ; for they may 
be still a great way off: this life may pass before 
you meet friends who would deserve your fullest ad- 
miration — your deepest love; they are, no doubt, in 
the world ; so are many other blessings, which yet 
may never be allotted to you here. Do not, from 
weariness of waiting, try to deceive yourself as to 
the calibre of excellence which is within reach of 
your friendship, for the best foundation of love is 
truth, and any make believe of the heart too generally 
ends in souring it, even to injustice. We believe in 
the deliciousness of a southern climate ; but if we 
never leave England we shall never be able to feel 
it. Would it not be foolish to try and persuade 
ourselves, some fine summer's day, that our northern 



220 MORNING CLOUDS. 

atmosphere was as soft, and that we might do as 
Italians do? No less foolish is the romantic des- 
peration that attributes to mediocrity the fire of 
genius ; to a cold and hard nature the sweetness of a 
genial temperament; to a person stiffened by dull 
precision, by a merciless restraint of impulses more 
in want of stimulus than repression, mental pro- 
fundity, and superhuman command of feeling. Yet 
it is often done, and much to the injury of the un- 
willing representative whose real virtues would be 
better valued, if natural disabilities were recognised. 
Zschokke advises us always to look at the world " a 
little through the glasses of fancy and sentiment. In 
order," he says, " not to lose faith in humanity, one 
does well to think every one as good, or even better, 
than he will seem." " Ein wenig durch die Brille 
der Fantasie und des Gefuhls anzuschaun. Um den 
Glauben an die Menschheit nicht zu verlieren thui 
man wohl, jeden fur so gut zu halten, oder fur 
besser als er scheinen will." * This is all very well 
when our penetration has come to a just estimate of 
the true natural capability of each, for men as well 
as things " cannot get out of their nature, or be, or 
not be, in despite of their constitutions,"! and it is 

* Zschokke's " Selbstschau." 
f Sir Thomas Browne. 



AMIABILITY NOT UNCOMMON. 221 

as foolish to expect some qualities in certain natures, 
as to look for figs on thistles. 

But if we were not too much taken up by the 
expectation of singularly great excellence, we might 
find in the least striking characters much worthy of 
love, and admiration too ; even the unprepossessing, 
whose insipid manners are at first repulsive, have, 
with very rare exceptions, a flavour and piquancy 
peculiar to themselves, which would quite reward 
the degree of affection we ought to feel for them. 
If we cannot discover anything that favourably distin- 
guishes one fellow-creature from the rest of his kind, 
we have probably not seen that one in his truest and 
best condition. Would that we had more largeness 
of heart ! — that we could love human nature in all 
with an unexclusive love, expecting less from each 
individual and more from all ! What more worthy 
of the tender pity and respect due to fallen majesty 
than human nature in every person of every class? 

Exclusiveness is a fence generally set round a small 
and barren ground : natures rich and wide in their 
scope are liberal, and their love is as comprehensive 
as their intelligence ; and exclusiveness is indulged 
on mistaken principles if it is thought necessary in 
order to avoid the false position, the unhappiness 
of which I have described ; for only by premature 



222 MORNING CLOUDS. 

belief, that in a comparative stranger you have found 
an eligible corifidente, will you be exposed to its 
complicated evils: it is true that those who have 
spiritual affinity with you will quickly be admitted 
to your confidence, and command your affections, but 
with spiritual kindred (according to my notions) 
you are not liable to future disenchantment. Till 
you have had more experience in life, it is very 
desirable that you should be guided in these matters 
by the advice of those who have seen more variety 
of character, or, at any rate, that you should give 
your own penetration some length of time to work 
in, before you commit yourself to bonds from which 
you cannot withdraw. 

It is against lavishing confidence and bosom friend- 
ship, where affinity is not possible, that I have argued ; 
in a broader sense of love, no one can love too freely, 
or too well. Few know how happy this life may be, 
because few love as many and as much as they 
ought ; and we may hope all things of our neighbours 
within the bounds of reason : if this limit is over- 
passed, we shall have to prepare ourselves to endure 
all things in an undesirable degree. From the net 
in which your own want of discernment, or want of 
caution, may have entangled you, there is (as far as 
I see) no complete escape; there is no possibility, 
either in a social or Christian point of view, of saying 



WANING AFFECTION. 223 

to the one whom you once treated as most dear, — 
" Pray have the goodness to desist from your endear- 
ments, your unvaried kindnesses, they have become 
intolerable to me since I have better understood 
your true character ; and though at the expense of 
your feelings, I must speak to you as truth dictates." 

It would be a relief, no doubt, so to speak on some 
occasions, so to cut the knot of a chafing tie, but it 
is not justifiable. What right have we to trifle with 
the feelings of others, who may truly love us ? 

I think (of course w T ith the exception of matri- 
monial engagements) that in these cases, the nicest 
sense of truth may be satisfied in going on on old 
terms, by a hearty exercise of all possible kindness, 
and daily prayer for the enduring tender love which 
every follower of Christ should feel for every other. 

If the sweetness of old confidence is missed and 
bewailed by the unattractive friend, then it is surely 
allowable to confess the change that has altered us ; 
and a truly charitable person will do this in terms 
which, inflicting no unnecessary wound, will leave 
unaltered the claims of past affection. " The pang, 
all pangs above, of kindness counterfeiting absent 
love," * will not be felt by all as the poet felt it, but 
it is a severe pang to the least susceptible ; and the 
only way I know by which it can be softened, is by 
* Coleridge. 



224 MORNING CLOUDS. 

taking care that the purest love — love for Christ's 
sake — shall be ever present and active. This may 
not content the one who has lost the admiring fond- 
ness of her fancied counterpart, but it will convince 
her that she has not found "a worse than foe" in "an 
alienated friend." 

The temptations to neglect the secret duties of 
Christian love press hardest upon sensitive natures; 
and these duties are most frequently unnoticed by the 
courteous and gentle among them, who can always 
command exterior kindliness. But let them look to 
their inmost feelings; to the slight aversion which 
begins to make communications with a tiresome com- 
panion as short as may be, and turns even the eyes 
from the unwelcome face as often as an answering 
look can be dispensed with : we call it slight aversion 
when it affects us, because we should be loath to be 
forced to resist it, as downright ill-will and malice 
are resisted ; let it be brought into the full light of 
truth, and we shall be aware of its great danger. 
Consider the courtesy which veils dislike; what is 
it often but a covert for undisturbed sinning? No 
one can find fault, no tongue can upbraid with hope 
of convicting us of unkindness, yet the heart feels it, 
and a wound is made, more or less deep. 

" Oh I no," replies one vexed by an irksome 



THE EFFECTS OF PRIDE, 225 

associate. < ? if it was felt,, she would not be so 
intensely provoking: but no weary look — no silence 
— no civil intimation of being bored, makes the least 
difference." Probably not : any difference that these 
methods of seeking relief could make would be for 
the worse — would make pointless chatter more 
vivacious, questions more frequent, complaining re- 
marks more peevish : for it is pretty certain that 
discomfort of mind will heighten every disagreeable 
of manner ; the state we call nervous bringing into 
full play every weak and disordered element of cha- 
racter ; and if by coldness and distance we succeed 
in producing this state, we strengthen every tempta- 
tion to dislike. 

Xow I think we shall not say too much of the 
powers of a superior nature, if we assert it as a rule, 
with very few exceptions, that when two people are 
together, it is the fault of the strongest if the 
weaker one is habitually uncomfortable ; there must 
be surely a mixture of pride in the manners of the 
other, a slight tint of impatience or contempt, or the 
less richly endowed (unless so poor as to be capable 
of envy) would generally feel raised by intercourse 
that ought to leave both gainers, the one, at least, 
in patience, the other in light. 

Are you ignorant of the cruel unkinclness of 
Q 



226 MORNING CLOUDS. 

which you may be guilty without saying a word ? 
of the injustice you may practise when pride leads 
you to refuse any confession of being " put out," 
though your companion by every expression of word 
or deed anxiously inquires, u Is thy heart right, as 
my heart is with thy heart ? " Fear lest the indul- 
gence of sullen or gloomy feelings bring you at last 
to that wretched state in which fault is so con- 
founded with morbid affections of the body, that 
neither you, nor those who love you best, can 
exactly determine where involuntary depression ends 
and fault of temper begins, for when at this stage 
of unsoundness, you are deprived of all human help. 
Believe me, you may gradually be led to it by 
allowing your manner to show uncomfortable moods ; 
you may have a dim notion that, though feeling too 
unhappy to please, you can still excite curiosity and 
concern : to be anxiously wondered at may seem for 
awhile rather an interesting position. But folly 
never interests us long ; people are anxious, of 
course, to know how long it is likely to last, as they 
are anxious about the duration of an east wind, or 
the smoky torrent of an incurable chimney, but the 
fact of sullenness seldom meets with more respectful 
attention than any other domestic nuisance. "What's 
the matter?" " Oh ! she is only in one of her sulky 
fits again," is all the notice it is likely to attract. 



SULLEN MOODS. 227 

Think it no common-place of sermons, nothing less 
than the truth, that every little wrong, consciously 
committed, darkens the light within you, and makes 
it more difficult to see what is right ; if you yield to 
ill-humour on one occasion you will be less able to 
see its wrongness in the next. I know too well how 
hard it is to overcome a fit of ill-humour, how reason- 
able it seems : for the time everything appears to you 
dark with a kind of ideal hatefulness : nothing is said 
or done without stirring up new feelings of irritation 
and disgust. It happens to your mental eye that all 
objects take a disagreeable shape, as to the eye of the 
fevered body wandering over the walls of its sick- 
room, which, having once traced out some fantastic 
pattern in the papering, finds this repeated on every 
side with importunate distinctness : for it is your 
own susceptibility to vexation, not the provoking 
ways of other people, that in nine cases out of ten 
produces your annoyance : and if it seems to be 
caused by their unkindness, pettishness, or downright 
ill-nature, know (from the evidence of a fellow- 
sufferer) that there are many ways by which patience 
might be overcome, without the dignity of having 
something to forgive. 

A stupid joke, slowly insisted upon; a dull look 
fixed on you interrogatively ; ah ! a hundred little 

Q 2 



228 MORNING CLOUDS 

nothings by which no one has a thought of giving 
pain j will provoke as much and more from the shame 
of minding such trifles. I know no help for this 
pitiable state, short of what is all prevailing — take 
refuge in prayer, and then do your best not to 
oppose its object while in the company of others. 
It would be as just for a distorting mirror to com- 
plain of the ugly faces put upon it, as for us to 
complain at such times of distaste, of the disagree- 
ableness of all the people and things we meet with : 
the receiving lens is itself in fault. 

There is something in pride so invincible when 
confederate with the will, that if once it is roused to 
resistance, or to the defence of anger, I almost 
despair of anything counteracting its influence. 
The Most Hio-h alone is able to soften and subdue 
intense pride : may you be preserved by His mercy 
from ever giving place to a feeling so hateful to 
Him. When you feel it begin to swell in your 
heart, exercise the utmost energy to conquer it, 
lest by omitting to do so then you should draw on 
that fearful crisis when you feel as if you neither 
could nor would give way, when though it is but a 
trifle on which resistance hinges, yet you think you 
would rather die than give up an iota of your will. 
To avoid its coming to this, I advise you daily to 



THE FOLLY OP SCORN. 229 

practise concession to the wishes, and deference to 
the opinion of others, even if you do not think them 
better than your own ; you can thus exercise external 
humility, till by degrees it may penetrate to your 
feelings : above all, learn something of the rare art 
of allowing yourself to be in the wrong, not only 
when you can do so with graceful frankness, but 
when conviction is forced upon you in a way that 
hurts self-love. 

It would carry me too far for the patience of my 
most long-suffering reader, if I attempted to specify 
all the snares most fatal to good humour : they are 
on every side of us ; a high tide of happy conceit in 
other people infinitely disgusts a fastidious observer, 
yet what is it but the coming to a turn in the road 
from which they see their good deeds or good parts 
in sunshine ? Would you quarrel with such sudden 
exhilaration if your own success, or that of a friend, 
occasioned it ? Again, to see other persons nursing 
and fondling their own particular foibles, stirs your 
contempt ; were you yourself less foolish, you would see 
more of the strength of their temptation, and rather 
less of their weakness in yielding to it ; for " He that 
is void of wisdom despiseth his neighbour." * Now, 

* Prov. xi. 12. 
Q 3 



230 MORNING CLOUDS. 

it is true you can do no one who is in fault any- 
good without taking a higher ground than theirs ; not 
the height of serene surprise that their follies should 
so much differ from yours, but the vantage-ground 
of the " meekness of wisdom," which will give you 
an elastic good humour in all your dealings with 
error. And you must be prepared to allow to others 
a great difference of pace in the action of their minds, 
otherwise you will be in perpetual discord with those 
who think either much faster or much slower than 
yourself. 

Perhaps your powers of mind have by nature a 
rapidity of movement that carries you instantaneously 
to the climax of a subject, making it extremely 
tedious to go slowly and in detail through all its 
approaches — the only way by which some minds can 
reach it : yet this tediousness must be borne with 
when combined action is required ; because you who 
see the whole by an intuitive glance, are sometimes 
able to see the parts of the whole also, while the mind 
that slowly ruminates, and, bit by bit, resays and 
reconsiders the least portion of its convictions, is truly 
incapable of a comprehensive view. And why wish 
to urge on such minds? to precipitate their tardy 
operations? They have advantages as certain and 
peculiar as those of your speedy flight: give them 



U>~KI>"D DEEI5I0>~. 231 

time to weigh the feathers and count the sands that 
obstruct their feebler feet : they need it, as much as 
free space for rapid movement is needed by you. 

It is too common for people of energetic natures 
to fret at the slowness and dulness of others as a 
voluntary infliction — a tyranny by which stupidity 
disturbs and worries the intellects that it cannot 
obscure ; a little more wisdom would show them that 
in most cases it is a temperamental necessity, a drag 
allowed by Providence to retard too much velocity 
in human affairs, a ballast that has its advantages. 
** Le souffle malveillant de la mediocrite " is arid and 
disagreeable enough, but who has ever spoken with 
sufficient gratitude of the unexacting, unintimidating 
gentleness which softens our intercourse with many 
people of less than average abilities ? 

I: you are one of those rare beings with whom a 
principle has more weight than the practice of the 
most unimportant among your fellow-creatures, you 
will avoid the vicious weakness of consenting to 
ridicule and detraction: vrhile duty to God with- 
holds you from volunteering any unkind censure, a 
sense of what you owe to yourself will restrain you 
from a foolish compliance with companions who 
habitually amuse themselves by laughing at the 
faults they detect in their neighbours. If you hope 

Q 4 



232 MOKNING CLOUDS. 

to preserve the power of loving worthily, never fall 
into this ignoble habit. Could your eyes be opened 
to the truth, you would see that it is no clever de- 
vice of ecclesiastical teachers, founded on figurative 
expressions in the Bible, which accustoms us to be 
called members one of another. It is a fact of which 
your own experience might convince yon, if human 
observation was ever dispassionate enough to perceive 
all that passes before it. So much do we all belong 
one to another, so closely is the human family, in all 
its branches, united both to the nearest and most dis- 
tant of its members, that we cannot hurt another in 
the least degree without wounding ourselves : for a 
while no suffering may warn us of self-injury, but it 
is surely awaiting us, and without a thought of 
resentment on the part of the one we wronged, our 
breach of kindness is inevitably revenged. If you 
believe nothing else that I assert, believe this. 

The susceptibility of self-love would be extended to 
the feelings of all around us if we could form any 
adequate notion of the degree to which we all mu- 
tually depend on each other for happiness and well- 
being ; and it is the assurance of this which should 
stimulate us to strive for the greatest possible per- 
fection in the least things. Every weakness and 
every fault tells with fearful certainty on the fate of 



FRETFULNESS. 23& 

others ; none can exist harmlessly : we often think we 
can keep our folly to ourselves, we say "we can take 
the consequences." Alas ! they are never all in our 
power. One sins, but many inevitably suffer ; one 
is silly, but many rue his lack of wisdom : no man 
liveth — no, not for an hour — wholly to himself. 

In a life short as this, so often darkened by irre- 
mediable calamities, it is surely a grievous waste to 
diminish the happiness that might be enjoyed without 
fear, by the gratuitous misery of ill humour. Yet 
how few refrain from disturbing domestic peace by 
some form of it ! Let us guard the serenity of the 
moment more carefully than we do ; smiles and plea- 
sant tones are a cheap payment for the great in- 
crease of happiness that they bring into society ; and 
assuredly their opposites, dry cold looks, harsh or 
lamenting voices, destroy more pleasure than human 
beings can afford to lose without cause. I think we 
seldom sufficiently remember the unseen trials of all 
about us ; from those of the little child, fear-stricken 
by a face graver than usual, to the vague apprehen- 
sions and keen regrets of the old, there are so 
many shades of grief which never can be exhibited, 
and which yet may tax patience to the uttermost. 
We know it by daily experience, and still continue to 
aggravate every burden by our petulant expressions 



234 MORNING CLOUDS. 

of passing vexation : we know it, but when we are 
worried it is the common doom of our unfortunate 
housemates to be made thoroughly uncomfortable 
also. Ah ! if we could but see what true sunshine 
the unselfish cheerfulness of love could throw upon 
every rough place in our path, and every cloud of 
life's uncertain day, we should think it worth while 
to try, even when most disturbed ourselves, 

" On a cloudy heart 
To set a shining face, and make it clear, 
Seeming content to put ourselves apart 
To bear a part of others' weaknesses." — Daniel. 

Probably most of you who read this are familiar with 
Moore's lines upon the decline of love ; in case they 
should be new to any one, I introduce them again 
here: — 

" Alas ! how light a cause may move 
Dissension between hearts that love. 
Hearts that the world in vain has tried, 
And sorrow but more closely tied; 
That stood the storm when waves were rough 
Yet in a sunny hour fall off, 
Like ships that have gone down at sea 
When heaven was all tranquillity. 
A something light as air, a look — 
A word unkind or roughly taken — 
Oh ! love that tempests never shook, 
A breath, a touch like this has shaken." 






ANTIPATHY. 235 



CHAP. XIV. 

" In all but the singularly unfortunate, the integral parts that 
compose the sum total of the unhappiness of a man's life, are easily 
counted, and distinctly remembered. The happiness of life, on the 
contrary, is made up of minute fractions — the little, soon-forgotten 
charities of a kiss, a smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment in the 
disguise of playful raillery, and the countless other infinitesimals of 
pleasurable thought and genial feeling." — Coleridge. 

I DO not think the suffering caused by antipathy has 
ever been fairly dealt with ; it is seldom recognised 
by teachers who profess to inculcate Christian charity, 
and whatever blows they do aim at it seem dealt 
under cover of rebuke to hatred, envy, malice, and 
other notorious malefactors. Either they have no 
knowledge of a very subtle foe, or they know too 
much of it to venture upon an open encounter. 

I have no presumptuous expectation of conquering 
the difficulties of this subject, but for the sake of 
honesty I will not pass them by unnoticed. 

According to my own experience, I must confess 
that antipathy is sometimes a real affliction, and 
cannot be entirely overcome by religious principles. 



236 MORNING CLOUDS. 

I find it as indestructible as any other natural in- 
stinct ; a feeling that can be held in check, but never 
altogether extinguished, and I offer the only opinions 
I have been able to form on this point, with great 
hesitation. They have helped me, but I have no 
sufficient reason for thinking that they will help 
another whose disposition may be capable of an easier 
solution of difficulties that have beset mine with 
many snares. With this preface I may give my 
advice without further conditions of acceptance. 

Until you can feel vinegar to be sweet, and smoke 
pleasant to the eyes, do not hope to lose your sense of 
uncongeniality and natural dislike with antipathetic 
people, for it will make itself felt, and if you have 
not attended to it in calm moments, in times of irri- 
tation it may break out with sudden vehemence and 
cause irreparable mischief: but granting the antipa- 
thies of nature, you must nevertheless strive to esta- 
blish firmly that unity of spirit which is the main 
condition of Christian life. If it be possible, I would 
advise you in cases of decided antipathy to avoid all 
unnecessary combinations with the nature that is a 
stumbling-block to your own. Do not voluntarily 
throw yourself into companionship with such, in the 
hopes of outgrowing or overlaying the painful im- 
pression of past times, for probably the same ingre- 



THE STANDARD OF HUMAN MERCY. 237 

clients of discord are ready both in your own nature, 
and in that other, to burst out with intensified 
violence, on discovering that new circumstances leave 
old disagreeables unchanged — and unchanged too, 
perhaps, the love of that heart which ever seeks 
yours, but never draws near to it. Yet if you are, 
by your appointed fate, thrown together, then labour 
for true union, and resist unceasingly the temptation 
to keep yourself separate in feeling and distant from 
all but unavoidable association. Your efforts for 
real harmony must be cordial, and you must flinch 
from no degree of sociability that is desired on the 
other side : for remark, there is the widest difference 
between kind companionship and attempted friendship. 

This is, I know, a very difficult position to occupy, 
for in it sincerity is as hard to secure as hearty kind- 
ness, and I have many times overheard the complaint 
of a heart, not otherwise unkindly, that despaired of 
fulfilling its duties : but we cannot allow these com- 
plaints to overpower the commands of God. 

We are told by Him to love our brethren as He 
has loved us ; to be merciful as He is merciful ; by 
one whom He inspired, (( See that ye love one another 
with a pure heart fervently." Dare we flatter our- 
selves that our love is fervent and true, while we 
cautiously deal out to others (be they ever so un- 



238 MORNING CLOUDS. 

lovely to us) the fewest expressions of affection that 
are compatible with professed agreement ? 

It may indeed be literally doing as we would be 
done by in this instance, for to be sure of reciprocal 
dislike gives to some stern natures the comfort of 
satisfied justice : what so burdensome as the love of 
which we feel so unworthy that its least sign irritates 
us to stronger aversion ? 

Yet what but the fullest measures of human ten- 
derness can make our mercy in the faintest degree a 
likeness of God's mercy ? 

Infinitely distant as we are from the Divine Nature, 
will we go farther from it when invited to draw near, 
and in refusing to a fellow-creature the patient love 
our Creator demands for him, refuse the inconceivable 
measure of mercy which the merciful shall obtain? 

Far then be it from you to persist in any coolness 
or reserve which, while it gratifies your shrinking fas- 
tidiousness, puts a hidden barrier between you and 
your neighbours. 

You may by so doing protect your pride and deli- 
cacy from offence, and hide your want of love with 
exact politeness, but is it well by a deadly wrapping 
to cover inward death? You may answer, angrily, 
" Are we to allow ourselves no shelter from the 
intrusiveness of vulgar minds ? " 



CHRISTIAN CONCORD. 239 

Trust to nature for having supplied you with 
ample protection, and to your own common sense 
for keeping natural strongholds in serviceable condi- 
tion : only extreme folly will leave you " dismantled 
and exposed to scorn and injury, by too much dulce- 
ness, goodness, and facility of nature." * 

When your own indiscretion has brought you into 
closer connection with uncongenial characters than is 
either necessary or desirable, you must in meekness 
accept the consequences as a means of proving the 
strength of Christian love. I do not say that even 
this can always conquer the effects of a radical aver- 
sion, or so completely reconcile alien natures, as to 
put a stop to every jarring sensation, for I believe 
that in some instances of this sort " it must be that 
offences come ; " and that living peaceably as much 
as lieth in us, cannot always ensure a very lasting 
peace. 

But on our own part we can, and must, secure 
perfect forgiveness of all injuries, and sincere good 
will under all provocations. Nothing less, and, if it be 
possible, much more, must be our constant aim ; more 
sympathy, more readiness to admire and appreciate 
even where the heart is not strongly attached. And 
there is more to love and admire in every human 
* Bacon. 



240 MORNING CLOUDS. 

being than unscrupulous haters can ever see : when- 
ever we find nothing but disagreeable traits in 
any one, we may be sure that we are blinded, and 
walking in partial darkness. In the chapter on 
Self-Control, in i( Letters to my Unknown Friends," 
you will find the most practical advice upon the sub- 
ject that I have ever met with : remedial measures 
are there proposed, which will be found available for 
the use of every one. 

Let us now dismiss these painful considerations on 
what is, I trust, to many a theoretic difficulty. You 
who are dearly loved, and love with equal tenderness, 
on your part let nothing be wanting to make those 
who love you happy in their love : and for this you 
must not fail to be strictly true, full of indulgence, 
and unwearied in patience. If you are not quite 
sincere in dealing with those who love you, you can 
never have the full satisfaction of being loved : you 
cannot be sure that it is not your tribute of soothing 
fondness, rather than your real self, that is loved. 
Flattery may not be intended, but fondness, when 
not combined with single-hearted truth, is nothing 
better in its disastrous results. 

Of self-command you have constant need, even 
with those most dear, for " some forgiveness needs 
the best of friends." Have mercy on their depres- 



THE TIME TOE INDULGENCE. 241 

sing moods, and ever abstain from pettish up- 
braidings : for it may be that what provokes you is 
but a passing gloom, when 

" the heart is sick, 
And all the wheels of BeiDg slow." 

We know if we have suffered strong pain in the 
body that it seems for a time to draw us far away 
from external impressions ; we hear the voice we 
cannot heed, and see what we can scarcely observe. 
So it is with the heart in grief; while it lasts it 
is separated from happier ones, and deaf to all but 
its own sad cries. You would be gentle if the body 
was worn with pain: oh! be far gentler now, for (, 'the 
whole soul grieves ; " and do not fall back upon 
your willingness to make any great sacrifice for 
those who love you as an excuse for any flaw in 
present lovingkindness : you may be willing to give 
up a great deal, and do a great deal that is not 
required of you ; sweetness of manner and forbear- 
ance is what is wanted just now, and is worth more 
for home purposes than heroic deeds. We some- 
times see people of warm feeling aud little patience 
surprised to find that friends less fervent and more 
forbearing are more tenderly loved, more depended 
upon and sought after than they, — but it is not 



242 MORNING CLOUDS. 

more surprising than that we should prefer to rest 
on soft turf, rather than on a gold mine covered 
with nettles. If you love enough to be generous, 
for pity's sake love enough to be good-humoured 
and without a taunt on common occasions of annoy- 
ance. Remember, that it is often enough to make a 
sad or irritable person positively ill-tempered for the 
day to hear such remarks as : " How cross you are 
to-day ! " w You really are very unreasonable ! " The 
strong influence of the opinion other people form of 
us affecting not only our own self-estimate, but our 
actual line of conduct, is at no time so evident as in 
hours of irritable discomfort.* Few perhaps suffi- 
ciently consider this, and some may even deny it a 
due place among established facts. I am myself so 
fully convinced of it, that I think it is seriously to 
be weighed how much effect it has upon a sensitive 
idealising spirit to esteem itself ugly in any re- 

* " It is a truth in human nature that children and the great 
mass of mankind have hut little knowledge of their own characters 
and dispositions, and quickly form that idea ahout themselves which 
is suggested by the conduct of others towards them. They see 
themselves, as in a mirror, in the treatment they receive; they become 
accustomed to a view of themselves borrowed from without, and 
on that view they act; they see it is taken for granted they will do 
wrong, and think they therefore must do wrong ; they lose self- 
respect, and with that a large portion of the desire to do right." 
— Monro, 



SADNESS A DISGUISING VEIL. 243 

spect ; how the belief that it is so seems to harden 
feeling, and render manners awkward or abrupt. 

Do you see smiles on the face of a timid com- 
panion ? She looks happy ; but in how many in- 
stances the seeming happiness is only caused by 
a renewed conviction that she is pleasing to others ; 
reason enough for her to be pleased with herself: 
and that stern distancing air about one less prepos- 
sessing will gather new disagreeables from any con- 
firmation of her own suspicion that she is un- 
pleasing, Here then is a field for some of love's 
secret service. Try — though it may cost you many 
efforts — try to find out the unpleasant person's 
best side ; bring all the sunshine you can to bear 
upon it (avoiding of course all strong contrasts of 
her gloom and your gladness) ; and, with the vague 
sensation that some one takes pleasure in her so- 
ciety, she will begin to make it more pleasant : very 
often you will be surprised at the unexpected 
charms that will steal out when the frost of chagrin 
begins to relax. 

But we will suppose a more difficult case, where 
your own good-humour has failed under the constant 
fret of a morose manner, and then one sharp word or 
unkind transaction of the unhappy kill-joy turns 
every remaining shade of pity into quick anger ; — 

K 2 



244 MORNING CLOUDS. 

and it is to be remarked that in some people, by- 
nature exceedingly mild and forgiving, there is yet a 
core of pride, which, once stung, is more implacable 
than the resentment of many dispositions more easily 
angered. Supposing you to be liable to occasional fits 
of vindictive feeling, you may sometimes say in your 
heart, (( I could bear, and have borne, a great deal, 
but this is too much ; this is intolerably provoking." 

Arrest that impatient thought, that hasty de- 
serter from the habitual discipline of conscience : 
this that you call intolerable is the touchstone of 
your religion ; if you will not bear this, how will you 
prove yourself Christ's disciple ? 

Neither may you be satisfied by refraining from 
all but a scornful, unconciliating silence ; every de- 
gree of scorn separates, not alone from your fellow- 
sinner, but from Him who has compassion on the 
ignorant and foolish. 

The instant temptation after any dissension, de- 
clared or felt, is a wish to separate, to stand aloof 
from the offender. 

" As those whose hope 
And dearest wish is ne'er to meet again, 
Lest that their love, being in substance lost, 
Should lose in their contention e'en its show, 
Sinking from chill to cold." — Ernest. 

Resist this temptation, if you would not incur any 



CHARITY UNDER EXTREME PROVOCATION. 245 

danger of {( abiding in death : " let fault on the side 
of your neighbour or your own draw you nearer 
instead of distancing, seeing that it proves so much 
weakness and need of help. 

There is no dignity in sullen silence, in careful 
restraint of easy conversation, and the substitution 
of cold politeness ; there is, in a tender, humble ap- 
proach to the disturber of your peace with all the 
soothing spells of sincerity and love. If the wound 
to pride was made more painful by a sense of your 
inferiority to another, by the thought that she was 
too strong or too clever even to perceive your diffi- 
culties, yet do not intentionally withdraw from her 
confidence and affection. That superior nature, as 
you call it, has lonely hours, blanks in its vivid exist- 
ence, that give deeper pain perhaps than what you 
suffer, because its capacities for joy are deeper too : 
go closer to it ; speak frankly ; relieve the burden 
under which she secretly groans, if you can: try to 
do so ; if you cannot all at once wish to succeed, try 
for Jesus' sake to speak and act lovingly ; and even 
if your " cup of cold water" is dashed aside by her 
impatience, forgive ; and forget failure when again 
success appears possible. 

On the other hand, if you are apparently the 
superior, and — writhing under the aggravation of 

R 3 



246 MOKNING CLOUDS. 

uncongenial companionship — have been provoked 
by the unconscious injuries of a feebler mind, on 
you love has still larger claims. Go not to your 
lofty thoughts, your dreams of holiness; say not by 
your practice, " Go, and come again, and to-morrow 
I will give " help, or pity, or affectionate cares ; but 
resolutely advance nearer to the weaker sister or 
friend, and, with hearty, simple kindness, win her 
back to mutual good understanding. Who can de- 
scribe the miracles love has wrought, the power of 
doing good that abides in a loving, and honest, and 
humble heart ! It is as incalculable as the happiness 
which such a heart may attain to, though compassed 
with infirmity. Trusting, and loving, and forgiving 
all, under the cautionary checks of sound judgment, 
is the surest mode of finding that very many in all 
walks of life are worthy of the fullest trust, and 
love, and forgiveness. In a certain sense, a frank, 
affectionate nature finds home-like happiness gather 
round it wherever its lot may be cast ; for it finds 
that fellow-creatures are very generally like brothers 
and sisters in deed as wrll as in the phraseology of 
sermons ; whereas those who think and feel themselves 
aliens, quickly alienate all around them. 

Do you think of love as that which only prevails 
to this extent in the warm imagination of sanguine 



LOVE IMPERISHABLE AND INFINITE. 247 

moralists, owing much of its apparent force to notes 
of admiration and large words ? If you think so, 
you greatly mistake. Love is stronger and more 
patient than words can say ; and it is boundless in 
resources, for it is unwearied in prayer for the 
beloved to Him who is omnipotent, and who loves 
the same objects, only better beyond all thought. 

I have failed to express my true convictions if I 
seem to you to have attempted fully to notice the 
several duties of love ; for only of God, who is 
Love, can we learn how to love aright. Ask Him to 
teach you more and more of that which will only be 
perfected in eternity, which begins in present time, 
but so faintly that its agency is oftentimes hardly no- 
ticeable. It is as a grain of mustard seed here ; what 
it shall be we know not ; we only know that if we 
are to be as He, the Redeemer, is, our love will be 
far stronger than death, and our joy in it like to the 
blessedness of the Most High. 



R 4 



248 MORNING CLOUDS. 



CHAP. XV. 



" Let him who gropes painfully in darkness and uncertain light, 

and prays vehemently that the dawn may ripen into day, lay this 

other precept well to heart, which to me was of invaluable service : 

'Do the duty which lies nearest thee, which thou knowest to be a 

; duty; thy second duty will already have become clearer." — Carlyle. 



As is customary with people who declare themselves 
ready to give their fullest consideration to the doubts 
of another, I have carefully examined a few of those 
to which I suppose my readers subject, and then 
answered them with many words of digressive advice. 
My remedies have been more detailed than my de- 
scription of the troubles that require cure, and this 
not only because of the common proneness of all 
advisers to extravagant donations of that which is 
seldom valued by the receiver, but from my belief 
that a mind-malady, which undermines peace by in- 
cessant questionings, is most effectually relieved by 
a distinct affirmation of whatever is undeniable. I 
have laboured to make you feel " the certainty of 



POSITIVE TRUTH. 249 

the words of truth/' wherever I could honestly speak 
of it as certainty, knowing that every human soul 
"loves to dwell in truth, it is her resting-place;"* 
and that, after a rest there, the mind is better able to 
grapple with those obstinate perplexities that remain 
unrelieved — to grapple with them, or to do what is 
in some cases wiser, to suspend attention to them 
until a future time, when you may have a better 
vantage ground, bodily or mental, on which to fight 
your doubts and " gather strength."! In so doing 
you do not evade them with cowardly fear, but being 
sure that the light by which you walk is equal to 
your present needs, and can clear up at the time of 
appointed relief every cloud that now obscures it, 
you resolutely set aside as mistaken all disquieting 
thoughts which would interrupt the effects of certain 
truth, by faint whispers of that which is uncertain, 
it may be, untrue. I said that I have given you 
my honest convictions on the subjects of the fore- 

* Jeremy Taylor. 

t " He fought his douhts, and gather'd strength, 
He would not make his judgment blind, 
He faced the spectres of his mind 
And laid them : thus he came at length 
To find a stronger faith his own ; 
And power was with him in the night, 
Which makes the darkness and the light, 
And dwells not in the light alone." — In Memoriam. 



250 MORNING CLOUDS. 

going chapters; but though, for the sake of conve- 
nience, I have often used the imperative mood, I would 
not for a moment wish to impose on unconvinced 
minds, as essential to well-being, any notions of my 
own that may be peculiar. I think them essential : I 
think that an industrious, intelligent woman, with a 
mind well trained and a body well ordered, punctual 
and methodical in all her concerns, with her religion 
based on such sure foundations that feelings cannot 
loosen its hold on the mind, and so truly practical 
that its vitality affects every action, — a woman who 
is brave in suffering, patient and trustful in dejection, 
clear, and just, and true in thought, word, and deed, 
fervent in charity, meek, and quiet in spirit, self- 
denying and prudent for love's sake also, — cannot 
possibly be otherwise than a happy creature. I think 
the few things that can disquiet such a person are 
as nothing compared to those that will give her calm 
and lasting joy, and I think that every step made 
in advance towards this state of being, brings increase 
of happiness, and gives a zest and hope to life which 
will do much to dissipate the gloomy clouds of its 
morning. 

As I have a dread of the intuitive dictates of 
wisdom being neglected for the attractive complete- 
ness of any human scheme, I would much rather you 



THE SIMPLICITY OF DIVINE COMMANDS. 251 

found increase of happiness and undisturbed progress 
in the narrow way by the light Heaven sheds upon 
your own mind, than by any assistance which human 
teachers can offer. How well was it said by Shaftes- 
bury, " The most ingenious way of becoming foolish 
is by a system, and the surest method to prevent good 
sense is to set up something in the room of it. The 
liker anything is to wisdom, if it be not plainly the 
thing itself, the more directly it becomes its opposite." 

Pray take anything I have said, unsupported, for 
what it is worth, and for nothing more : in all human 
counsels we must make allowance for the deficiency 
and excess, the constitutional disproportion of every 
human mind. 

I have presupposed that yours is gifted with a 
noble ambition; that you desire for yourself such high 
degrees of perfection as can be attained in the body. 

The world and the word of God speak in very dif- 
ferent tones of the aspirations suitable to humanity. 
The word of God says, i( Be perfect," " Be merciful, 
even as your Father in Heaven is merciful ; " what 
could the creature desire more of gracious encourage- 
ment ? Could we have imagined or claimed, without 
Divine permission, so high an honour as this invita- 
tion implies ? Much too high for the wisdom of the 
world to accept, this constantly warns us against 



252 MORNING CLOUDS. 

overstrained ideas of perfection, and all that comes 
under the elastic term of enthusiasm. 

Though quite aware of the truth in which this 
instinct in favour of mediocrity is entrenched, of the 
fact that in all things, spiritual as well as physical, 
reaction is equal to action, and that there is great 
peril in so much remembering we are Christians as to 
forget we are men*; yet I am sure that the less 
aspiring counsels of the world are more puzzling, 
more at a distance from the nature of man, because 
not given by the Creator, than those it rejects or 
only receives with a decent and formal submission : 
they are more complex and conditional, and must 
therefore be of greater difficulty in practice. The 
highest precepts are invariably the most simple, 
because they apply to the earliest movements of evil; 
they purify the source of action : man only pre- 
scribes for the evil that meets human cognisance. 
Take, as an instance, the law of kindness, — God's 
law ; how perfect, simple, and comprehensive ! But 
how will worldly wisdom advise, when a tendency to 
dislike is complained of? "It is imprudent to 
indulge it, it makes enemies ;" or " unreasonable, we 
all have faults, and all need toleration ;" or " it is 

* Bacon. 



THE DIGNITY OF PATIENCE. 253 

foolish to vex yourself about the faults of another; " 
at best, "it is not like a good-hearted person to 
cherish ill-will." Which of those sayings, though 
true, gets any hold upon the aversion of the heart ? 
For a time they may help to cover the root of bitter- 
ness ; but it remains in full strength, and will spring 
up and destroy much good, unless the grace of God 
is sought, and his creature is honoured and loved 
because He commands it. In these, and all tempta- 
tions to sin, we may, in spite of frailty, be more than 
conquerors, through Him who loved us. We may so 
learn His mind as to be even more tender, kind, and 
solicitous about those who displease, because they 
suffer from that plague which, but for Him, had 
been the destruction of us all. 

Again, human beings have their conventional ideas 
of superiority, which ill agree with those we gather 
from the Bible. We often say: "We can never bear 
this ; " " such a prosy, dull creature is quite intoler- 
able ;" " this is an insufferable bore," with a self- 
satisfied tone, as if want of patience gave us a 
momentary claim on the respect of our neighbours ; 
yet patience seems to be a marked characteristic of 
all true greatness. No doubt there is excuse for the 
slights often put upon it, as a contemptible, depressed 
kind of virtue ; but when it is mean-spirited patience, 



254 MORNING CLOUDS. 

there is no restraint of power, and hence no resem- 
blance to the Divine attribute : we may always be 
sure that our patience is noble and highly born, 
when we refrain from murmurs, eloquent lamenta- 
tions, and angry retorts, for which we have both 
inclination and ability ; and if we pride ourselves on 
anything while under the burden of deserved trials, 
it is surely better to take a pride in patiently abiding 
always, than in fretting and declaring ourselves too 
weak to bear it. Some readers may be ready to 
object to this, and wish to remind me of the danger 
I have previously adverted to, of living and acting 
too much on abstract principles, and of the mistakes 
holy men have made when they met the complicated 
evils and perplexities of life with the lofty genera- 
lities of religion.* But why should the highest prin- 
ciples be carried out to the neglect of those that are 
equally requisite, though of subordinate importance ? 
which, as you will remember, are pressed upon our 
attention in many parts of Scripture, and cannot 
therefore be inconsistent with the highest strain of 
purity. u For the Christian religion, carrying us to 

* " Human nature will not well bear to be lifted to a stage much 
above that of ordinary motives, or to be cut off from all correspond- 
ence with such motives. The dangerous experiment has been tried 
a thousand times, and has always failed." — Isaac Taylor's History 
of Fanaticism, 



HOPES SUITABLE TO A HIGH CALLING. 255 

heaven, does it by the way of a man; and by the 
body it serves the soul, as by the soul it serves God 5 
and therefore it endeavours to secure the body and 
its interest, that it may continue the opportunities 
of a crown, and prolong the stage in which we are to 
run for the mighty prize of our salvation."* We 
must be wise in our better generation ; as the chil- 
dren of this world, we must unite the subtle wisdom 
of the serpent to the innocency of doves ; we must 
think on whatsoever things are true, honest, just, 
pure, lovely, and of good report, and give all dili- 
gence to our work on earth, lest we bring discredit 
on our profession, and discomfiture to every hope 
of advancing the good of souls after the manner of 
men, as well as by intercessory prayer. 

I have sometimes noticed with regret, the differ- 
ence of hope which may be observed in Unitarians 
and those who are in the fullest sense of the term 
Christians, with regard to the perfectibility of the 
human character. 

Those whose creed does not admit the belief of 
man's inherent sinfulness, who appear neither to 
recognise the fall of man, nor his need of a Mediator 
with God, seem to demand more of the individual, 

* Jeremy Taylor's Sermon on Christian Prudence. 



256 MORNING CLOUDS. 

and to expect greater perfectness of virtue, than 
those who believe their fallen nature redeemed, and 
strengthened by the sanctifying influences of the 
Holy Ghost. I state the contrast as it appears to 
me, being ignorant of the precise tenets of the Uni- 
tarians, and only judging of their effects from the 
literature pervaded by them ; and I draw attention 
to it only as an instance of the different degrees of 
Christian hope among us, and of the falseness of that 
humility which disclaims all expectation of pure 
motive and sublime earnestness — calling the mem- 
bers of Christ's mystical body worms and altogether 
vanity. Such does not seem to have been the mind 
of the inspired writers of the New Testament. St. 
Paul speaks to Timothy of a " pure conscience," of 
the te man of God " being "■ perfect," and St. John of 
the heart not condemning, as if these things were 
possible ; so that, though we must daily confess that 
of ourselves we can do no good thing, yet surely, as 
very members of Christ, it would be nearer the 
truth, and more befitting our profession, for each one 
to say with humble boldness, " I can do all things 
through Christ which strengtheneth me." 

It is too commonly the habit of religious minds to 
think of this world as only a passage of escape from 
perdition to heaven's felicity, and of this life, and 



DUE APPRECIATION OF LIFE PRESENT. 257 

those who continue to love this life, as altogether too 
bad for anything more than Christian endurance and 
almost martyr-like opposition : now, though without 
Christian endurance, and the inflexible constancy of 
those who died for confessing Him to whose glory 
we must live, we cannot indeed make this escape, 
yet to these virtues others less stern should be 
added. I do not wish the austerely religious to 
think less of the necessity of these, but more of the 
expediency of other good qualities equally depen- 
dent on grace, equally suitable to the Christian — 
such as a grateful perception of the positive joys and 
spiritual advantages of this lower state ; a loving regard 
for every fellow traveller, a warm concern for the 
earthly happiness of those who will occupy our place 
on earth, when the time of probation is for us ended ; 
in short, a tender interest in humanity, a disposition 
to make the best both of this life and those who 
pass through it with us : for I am persuaded that this 
would be a far better preparation for heaven than the 
ascetic turn of mind which prompts men to hurry 
towards their spiritual goal with disdainful neglect of 
the imperfect joys and imperfect goodness that may 
be found even in a (( vale of tears." 

If any extreme can be good, this alienation from 
the world is, of course, better than having the heart 

s 



258 MORNING CLOUDS. 

choked with its cares and the lusts of many things : 
but very bad is the best extreme when it makes us 
gloomy on religious grounds, wholly discontented 
with the pleasant portion in which, even on this side 
of the grave, man's lot often falls, and too much 
taken up with hope of angelic intercourse, to pay 
due attention to poor humanity, still struggling 
under the load of the flesh. Those who are addicted 
to this error accept the hopes of the second dispen- 
sation with a faith too exclusive ; they seem to make 
it a point of conscience, on the strength of far greater 
hopes, to reject all others, and to appear to careless 
observers, in spite of these hopes, " of all men most 
miserable." 

Do they not forget St. Paul's words, i( But godli- 
ness is profitable unto all things, having promise 
of the life that now is, and of that which is to 
come"?* Do they not need to be reminded, in 
the words of a most profound writer in our own day, 
that one of the purposes of Christ's mission was to 
bring about a a Secular Reform ; that is to say, a 
purification, a rectification, and an ennobling of 
man's life, individually and socially, as related to this 
present course of things — even that life individual 

* 1 Timothy, iv. 8. 



-ELF--DECEII. 259 

of which death is the termination, and that life social 
which matures itself in races, expires with them, 
and renews itself in other and remote regions? "* 

But the clanger of forgetting this is not nearly so 
great as that to which I would now direct your 
attention, — the clanger of familiarity with the idea of 
what you ought to be, blinding you to a true know- 
ledge of what in daily practice you are. 

Anions: all the fatal delusions to which sinful 
beings are exposed, none is more easy and common 
than this. A pure and lofty theory caD, for a long 
time, so occupy the mind that it scarcely notices 
grievous inconsistency in its practice ; and in some 
cases the most unhesitating selfishness will actuate 
those whose warm benevolence and practical charity 
is beyond doubt on occasions where personal interest 
is not thwarted by their consequences. And there is 
such a thing as aiming too high in this way ; that if 
your motives are of an order too refined and subtle 
for common duties and simple obedience, you may 
habitually neglect both, and yet only feel a plight 
check from conscience. Xow and then, perhaps, a 
passing thought of, " Should I not call this wrong in 
any one else ? " or, " How strange that 1 can be guilty 

* Isaac Taylor's Bestoration of Belief, p. 262, 
S 2 



260 MOKNING CLOUDS. 

of such a fault ! " may trouble you, but will soon be 
silenced by the holy aspirations to which this tempo- 
rary chill incites you. Take heed, then. To aim at 
one right, true, or self-denying act, lying before you 
in the plain line of duty, is worth all the spiritual 
intensities of thought with which you are apt to 
console yourself; and the failure you are so likely to 
make in its performance may bring you a rare bless- 
ing — true humiliation. If this is long unfelt, there 
is great fear that you will become an unusually 
successful self-deceiver, one whose selfishness is 
idealised, and entirely cloaked in theoretic vir- 
tues. And if it comes to this, not only your own 
soul is damaged, but, as ever, evil causes evil, and 
strengthens itself with terrific force. 

Your conduct, from its ludicrous disproportion to 
your principles, has brought these — which in mo- 
ments of enthusiasm you think you would die 
to defend — these very principles — into contempt 
among the foolish, and painful suspicion among the 
w T ise : for all the consequent evil you are to a degree 
answerable. 

To avert this disastrous possibility, I propose an 
unpalatable medicine : since, theoretically, we all 
agree that the heart is deceitful above all things, I 
propose that we no longer trust to it alone for criti- 



DESIRABLENESS OF REBUKE. 261 

cism on our conduct, but willingly listen to any who 
comment upon it either with censure or suggestive 
wonder. 

I know that it is the last thing the greatest 
admirers of humility are likely to endure, — that it is 
particularly unpleasant to be told that any one else 
remarks the least portion of the sinfulness and im- 
perfections our prayers acknowledge and our hearts 
deplore ; and I know that even if we can tolerate 
rebuke and admonition, acting upon it is even more 
difficult, — that it is easier to impress every wise 
maxim upon another with affectionate eloquence, 
than to apply one precept to our own case during 
temptation ; and yet I see that this must be done, 
and that the voice of human reproof must often be 
hearkened to here, by those who hope for the tran- 
scendent joy of praise from their Judge hereafter. 
And as, owing to the excessive impatience of self-love, 
we seldom give friends the opportunity of exhorta- 
tion, I think, with Jeremy Taylor, that " it is none 
of God's least mercies that he permits enmities 
among men, that animosities and peevishness may 
reprove more sharply and correct with more severity 
and simplicity than the gentle hand of friends, who 
are apter to bind our wounds up than to discover 
them and make them smart ; but they are to us an ex- 



262 MORNING CLOUDS. 

cellent probation how friends may best do the office of 
friends, if they would take the plainness of enemies 
in accusing, and still mingle it with the tenderness 
and good affection of friends." * 

I so entirely agree with this, that I entertain a 
great respect for the common home discipline of 
being laughed at : with all its drawbacks, its efficacy 
in breaking us in, and awakening us to the salutary 
conviction that we are liable to absurdity as well as 
faultiness, is in the long run quite an indispensable 
advantage ; wherever we find it has been foregone, 
is there not constant reason to regret the omission ? 
To my mind, intercourse with those who have been 
well laughed at early in life (it may be perilous to 
begin the process later), compared with intercourse 
with those who have rarely tasted the pungent dose, 
is as much more easy and agreeable as is travelling in 
a vehicle upon springs compared with jolting heavily 
in one that is without them. 

How many foibles may cling to the behaviour of 
the most sincere Christian ! how many trifling habits 
grow upon one, which an occasional word of rough or 
gentle warning might effectually check ! 

And let it not be said that flaws of which a pure 

* Life of Christ. 



IRRITATION FROM OFFENDED TASTE. 263 

conscience does not inform us are immaterial, for no 
one can tell how much they may impair the effect of 
real virtues, With an eye to social charity, I believe 
we should spare no pains to conquer even the least 
inelegance in speech or movement; for not only 
slovenly habits and rude manners, but an irksome 
tone of voice, a stupid gesture often recurring, or an 
unmeaning phrase constantly repeated, have often 
lessened the influence of excellent people, who 
would not for worlds inflict any pain consciously. 
This kind of annoyance does so much the more 
mischief, that it vaguely disquiets, and from the 
obscurity of its source is seldom recognised as a 
temptation from without; the fastidious observer 
attributes it to a miserable state of spirits, and this 
often causes more irritation than any provocation 
which we know to be external. No doubt personal 
feeling may be a predisposing cause; but in the 
best temper and best spirits, a frequent shock 
to good taste is really painful. Our own common 
observation of what is to be regretted in the 
manners of other people should embolden us to 
endure the wounds caused by plain speaking, when 
we are so fortunate as to find any who will tell 
us what is disagreeable in ourselves, without increas- 
ing a morbid desire for talk about self. There is 



264 MORNING CLOUDS. 

much to withhold us, both in prudence and charity, 
from habitually lavishing these " precious balms " 
upon another, but in receiving them there is little or 
no danger to a firm mind. 

It is now time for me to answer an objection to 
all my advice, which, I imagine, may often have 
occurred to you while reading these pages ; it cau- 
not be expressed more forcibly than in these words 
of Mde. de Stael : " Ce qui est involontaire est si 
beau qu'il est affreux d'etre condamne a se com- 
mander toutes ses actions, et a vivre avec soi-meme 
comme sa victime." You may say that I advocate 
too toilsome a regulation of impulse, too constant 
application of self conscious discipline. I answer 
that toil is the beginning of all true joy, and that 
unless there is self-discipline early in your career, 
there is inevitable sorrow and self-reproach laid up 
for its close. But I also have a fear of so rigidly 
adhering to moral regimen, that all the wholesome 
impulses of nature are overruled by system, and 
therefore I urge you at once to accustom yourself to 
the simple commands of reason, and never to allow 
the least suspicion that they can be at variance with 
those of religion : none are so free, so open to every 
happy, and useful, and holy impulse, as those who 
have calmly reflected on their difficulties, gradually 



CONFLICT OF OPINIONS INEVITABLE. 265 

overcome their doubts, and embraced with vital 
energy those opinions which their reason finds con- 
sonant with revealed religion. TTe have known too 
many in these days who, avoiding reflection and 
self-government in early life, have in later years 
adopted voluntary fetters, resigned innocent liber- 
ties, and transferred to the blind guidance of a fellow- 
creature the spirit that has access to the Father of 
Lights. And in these days every thought and every 
opinion is submitted to a sifting inquiry, which makes 
it impossible for you, or any one, to leave theirs to 
a chance formation : you must now choose your 
spiritual position, and stand firm in it ; while you 
delay, hoping for an easy indifference or safe neu- 
trality, there is no peace for you, no end to the doubts 
that will be suggested — even to the unthinkiDg, 
whose careless minds would find none in their own 
cogitations. 

Our enlightened age is ready to pull to pieces every 
system of religion or philosophy in its feverish grasp : 
unless your faith is strongly based on revelation, and 
reconciled with reason, how will it ever bear the 
strain of future years ? 

Bear with my entreaties once more. I do entreat 
you to remember always what is implied in the 
words often carelessly uttered — "It is better to do 

T 



266 MORNING CLOUDS. 

so and so ; " €i it would have been better." When 
we say this, we generally believe what we say ; but 
do we really apprehend all the good gained and the 
evil avoided, by doing what reason pronounces to be 
better ? 

Do we remember that every degree of better or 
worse, in the conduct of each one of us, has results 
that will be felt throughout eternity ? 

What we say, or do, or feel a few hours before 
death, is not perhaps of half so much importance in 
determining our immortal condition, as what we say, 
do, and feel during the many days of youth care- 
lessly given up to the" direction of chance by an 
unstable mind. 

Each day in its familiar round of events has no 
solemn aspect ; but the ineffaceable records of each 
common day — in the book of remembrance and in 
the secret tablets of our hearts — will prove to us, 
when all our days on earth are at an end, that every 
hour was infinitely precious, 

These hours are now your own, and the hope of 
an ever-growing excellence — a hope that nothing can 
take from you without a voluntary surrender of the 
Christian's birthright. Do you still sigh, and say 
that I expect too much of human nature ? 

Look again and again to the Word of God : there 



FAITH VICTORIOUS. 267 

alone can I find a warrant for my expectations, and, 
finding it there, I know that in such a hope I shall 
not be ashamed. 

The Maker of man, and the Witness of all his 
struggles against temptation, must know what degrees 
of perfection His creatures are capable of attaining. 
However improbable they may seem to me, His 
commands satisfy every doubt. 

If you had anything less than an Almighty helper, 
the terrible power of your enemy, the dismaying evils 
that infest the world, the sin and weakness ever 
present in your soul, might utterly confound you ; 
but " when the whole powers of thy soul are as it 
were scattered and routed, rally them by believing. 
Draw thou but into the standard of Jesus Christ, 
and the day shall be thine, for victory follows that 
standard, and cannot be severed from it ; yea, though 
thou find the smart of divers strokes, yet think that 
often a wounded soldier hath won the day. Believe, 
and it shall be so with thee." * 

* Leighton. 



THE END. 



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